Seravine
by Obsidian Ideals
Summary: Only a month after the final battle, Lloyd will find himself thrown forcibly into the greatest war of his career, against the most dangerous enemy of all: himself. Spoilers for the end of the game romance in the works!
1. Chapter One

Seravine - Chapter One

[Author's Note: First foray into fan fiction, here. : ) Please let me know what you think - I have a majority of the chapters already planned, but I'll certainly take into consideration anything you may bring up in a review. Take note that this story begins AFTER the game ends, so it is ripe with end-game spoilers.

A few more things: I've been told that the first chapter is a tad confusing in some aspects, but please stick with me for the ride; this mystery is a bit intentional, as things will be explained in later chapters. Oh, and there will be romance later on, though between which characters…you'll have to wait and see. : )

Thanks for reading, and please review!]

oOo

There was one moment, walking in the wind and the mist under a cold blue sky, where Lloyd Irving thought he could almost see past the silent trees that stretched across the entirety of the Gaoracchia forest; the sun was there, somewhere far above, and only the most daring of rays made it through the thick growth, but it was enough, even as the shadows writhed below the branches. Things were calm and quiet and generally unnerving - the Forest of Death certainly had its name for a reason, but for once his path was undisturbed, much to his relief and suspicion.

It was not the first time he had absolutely no idea where he was going, and certainly not the last, if the forest had its way; he was fairly certain he had seen that one particular tree three times already, and that stump, six, but he was bound and determined to at least work his way to the abandoned village of the Mizuho, having blatantly ignored the suggestions at Sybak to at least take a map in his quest. He had been through the forest more than once, he had reasoned, and that was plenty to go on, though it seemed he had left his memory of the winding turns and pathways back in Iselia.

"Damn," he murmured, as he stepped around that one stump once more. "Make that seven."

Several minutes later he had given up and taken to sitting on that accursed stump, for once quite glad none of the old gang was around to see his predicament - Genis would have had an absolute field day with it. And, to top it all off, black clouds had gathered at some point or the other just beyond the horizon, and the scent of rain was light in the air. Mizuho had to be close; he knew that much, though the worn path carved throughout the tree trunks came to an abrupt end just to his left. With a sigh he leaned back, temporarily letting down his guard; the tree stump was warm in the afternoon sun and even somewhat comfortable, and he closed his eyes for only a moment, determined to take a much-needed break.

oOo

_"Excuse me."_

_The burly man whirled, his robes fluttering in the dry wind, and smiled. "Ah, young Richard. I take it you have business here?"_

_Richard nodded, holding the small satchel close to his chest with one hand, the other resting near the sword handle at his hip. "Yes. I bring a delivery."_

_"Very well." The man nodded and beckoned him forward, stepping behind an empty stall with a look of great expectation._

_Richard followed closely, with a shrewd look at the crowd bustling about, his grip tightening across the satchel. The sand twirled in the wind against his cloak, but he brushed it impatiently aside, fully intent on leaving the marketplace as soon as possible. Only at the stall did he loosen his hold, setting the leather satchel onto the dusty wood, his hand never leaving the sword at his side._

_The satchel was seized immediately and the man rifled through it with an almost childish pleasure, the glint in his eyes utterly betraying the warm smile set against his lips. "This is not all of them," he said quietly, moving a few grubby fingers through the satchel's contents. "You were not thorough."_

_Richard shook his head, careful to appear unaffected by the man's words. "No. That is the entire collection."_

_The man glanced towards him, the disbelief manifest in his eyes, but Richard simply returned the look, a free hand falling to brush aside his cloak and bring his sword's hilt into full view._

_"Very well," the man said, with a wry smile that did not quite meet his eyes. "You have my compliments."_

_Richard nodded. "And my reward?" he asked, with an unexpected twinge of nervousness as the wind nearly tore the hood from his head. He accepted the small bag set on top of the wood with a gracious smile, and turned to leave, calculating the quickest route to the gates._

_"Richard," the man said, now with an ugly look across his round face. "I would advise you not lie to your employers."_

_For a short moment his guard fell, and Richard turned with a frown. "What?" he asked, and only just stepped to the side as an arrow sank with a sickening crunch into the wood. Almost instinctively he turned, darting haphazardly through the crowd, his breath coming in short gasps against the wind. He dared not look behind to see his pursuers; he could only just hear their footsteps against the marketplace's rough stone, even as the crowd fell almost strangely quiet and moved to avoid his frenzied path. He knew in a single crucial moment he had been betrayed; that fool, that damn fool of a merchant had planned this, had planned the entire stint, fully intent of acquiring every last one of the accursed set._

_The dry wind was tearing into his lungs, but still he ran forward, weaving throughout the stalls with his heart pounding in his ears, knowing he would be safe if he could only make it out of the city. The gate was there, just a few feet away - and then two guards stepped forward, their arrows notched against their bows, and he had one long second before they fired._

oOo

Lloyd awoke with a start, nearly rolling off the stump in his surprise, before sitting up and using a hand to steady himself against the cold wood. He was in the forest, again - but it was nearly night, as the moon had already begun its climb into the sky, and the last trails of sunlight were fading into darkness. Many hours had passed and he immediately regretted his decision to take a short break; sleeping in the Forest of Death was never really a good idea, particularly when one was alone.

"What was that all about?" he wondered aloud, the dream still fresh on his mind. His answer was a resounding crack that echoed throughout the trees; as if on cue the canopy shook and rain began to fall, and with a curse he shifted and pushed away from the stump, realizing with no small amount of annoyance that those black clouds from earlier had managed to stretch across the entirety of the forest.

Gaoracchia seemed suddenly so much darker with the onset of midnight; the sky was cold and black and the trees shook in the wind, branches flailing upward in silent gestures towards the heavens. And yet, despite the storm that writhed and rolled below the stars, it was all muted, subdued, almost silent next to the wind amongst the trees. Lloyd paused, shaking his head, knowing it would do no good to focus on anything but the way to Mizuho. A short burst of lightning brought a sudden brightness to the shadows, and with an excited sort of relief he could see the faintest outline of a home through a gap in the trees.

He did not get very far.

Another clash of lightning nearly blinded him; when at last he opened his eyes and blinked in the resounding darkness, a shrill sort of cry rose against the wind, and almost instinctively his hands dropped to the swords sheathed at his side. The wail fell quiet almost as quickly as it begun, leaving only the sound of the wind and the rain, and for a long second he wondered it if had been merely his imagination, until a young boy stepped onto the path before him. The child was pale and unkempt, his clothes matted to his skin with the sickly stench of blood, and he quietly stepped forward, moving soundlessly in the storm.

"Hey!" Lloyd called, but his voice was lost in the wind, and almost against his will he found himself following. The strange child quickened his pace, breaking into a full sprint, winding his way almost carelessly through the trees. He came at last to a certain spot in the dirt, with Lloyd trailing not far behind, and fell abruptly to his knees, the strange cry picking up in full force as his hands dove forward, in a desperate attempt to touch the earth.

Lloyd watched with a strange fascination as the boy's hands passed clean through the ground, making no mark into the dirt, but before he could say a single word the child's hands fell still and with another flash of lightning he was gone. In that instant the storm roared to life, the rumbling of the thunder breaking Lloyd free of his shock, and without a second thought he stepped forward and drove his blades into the dirt, mimicking the child and pulling the earth free. It took several minutes in the cold rain before his hand pulled a small bag from the soil; stunned, he tucked it into his belt and pulled his swords free, fully intent on finding a warm place for the night. To his great relief the home he had seen earlier was in a much clearer perspective to his right, where the forest ended, and with a sudden exhaustion he trudged towards it, giving the empty home of the Mizuho people not a second glance as he pried upon the door and stepped inside, the storm slamming it shut behind him.

With a sigh of relief he sunk onto a cot near the door and set his swords to the side; his clothes were damp and cold and with a groan he shrugged his shirt off, draping it across a chair to dry. The home was dark, nearly pitch-black, and he fumbled about for a few moments before coming across what he hoped was some sort of lamp. A few twists of the knob and the room was suddenly thrown into sharp relief, his shadow looking wan and tired on the wall, and the strange small bag sitting innocently at his waist. Almost hesitantly he lifted it up and turned it over, dumping its contents into his palm; the bag was empty save one large gem, as black as the midnight sky, but with a strange sort of fire in its reflection of the lamplight.

Another clap of thunder rattled the door at its hinges and the lamp flickered, fading, and Lloyd could only watch as the light twisted back and gave way to darkness, leaving him to blink as his eyes adjusted once more to the shadows. With a sigh he slid the gem back into its bag, fully intent on showing it to Raine and Genis the next time he saw them, whenever that would be. The cot was somewhat warm, at least, and he leaned back with his arms crossed behind his head, only eventually falling into sleep with the sound of the wind and the rain.

oOo

It was a very frazzled and groggy young man that awoke when the first of the sun's rays snaked into the room; he sat up with a groan and rubbed blearily at his eyes, doing his best to avoid any semblance of light, and deciding somewhat unsteadily that whoever had come up with the idea of the morning sun really should be abused a bit. It was bright, much too bright, but when his eyes at last grew accustomed, he was rather relieved to see that the home had managed to weather the previous night's storm. The place actually looked somewhat cheerful in the new day's sun, vacant and dusty as it was, and his spirits couldn't help but be lifted when he found is shirt reasonably dry and his swords still close by his side.

The village looked little worse for wear when he stepped from the home a few moments later; the few remaining crops were a tad flattened and the grass still shone with the morning dew, but it was still all quiet and majestic, and Lloyd wondered briefly if the new Mizuho village would be the same. He still had no idea where they were building it, which made sense, in a way, though he was hoping to stumble across Sheena at one point or the other in his ongoing search for exspheres.

It had been a very successful venture, so far, more than he had expected, at least. Only the most stingy were unwilling to part with the gems once they learned the truth, and only the most foolish had pointed out that _he_ had yet to destroy his own. He knew they were right, partly, but it was much more difficult than he had ever imagined to even remove it, much less shatter it, as he was afraid, back in the darkest depths of his mind, to lose the last link with his mother. Dirk - and Kratos, for that matter - had said nothing of it, and for the time being he was rather intent on keeping it close, as it had already proved its worth many times over.

"So, this is goodbye, I guess."

Lloyd whirled, thrown back to his senses, the familiar voice not far to his right. Cautiously, he edged his way around the building, moving as quietly as he could manage, until a striking pink bow came into view. _Sheena_. He grinned, thinking to step free from the building's shadow and catch her unawares, when she spoke, again, looking back and forth across the village's silent splendor.

"So much has changed. For the better, of course...definitely for the better. But I have so many memories here; some of them good, some not so good - okay, okay, some pretty bad." She paused, bringing a finger to rub gently at her eyes, then continued. "But that's all in the past. So I've come to say goodbye."

Lloyd moved closer, feeling the first twinge of guilt for listening so long, until he was only a few feet behind her, hoping she wouldn't be angry, but glad to see her all the same. "Sheena?"

Almost immediately she turned, and in the next instant a familiar card was thrust at a crucial point of his neck, effectively restricting his movements. Sheena's eyes widened a moment later and she dropped her hand, blushing a pretty shade of crimson. "Lloyd? What are you - er, sorry about that. I guess I'm a little jumpy."

"No, no," he said, wincing as his voice nearly came out a squeak. "I should have, er, walked louder, or something."

She nodded. "Yeah."

Lloyd blinked and grinned, silently relieved his neck was fully intact. "I was just thinking about you, y'know."

"R-really?" Sheena asked, blushing an ever darker shade, much to his surprise and confusion.

"Yeah," he said, slightly perplexed. Had he said something wrong? "I was wondering when I would ever get to see your new home."

"Oh. Right!" Sheena said, shaking her head a bit. "Of course. You'll see it eventually, I guess." Her eyes lit up for a moment. "It's great! I just wanted to come back here for a moment and - " she paused, looking at him with the curiosity evident in her eyes. "What are you doing here, anyways?"

Lloyd's mood dampened a bit. "I got a bit lost in Gaoracchia during the storm. And, well, this seemed a good place to get out of the weather."

Sheena arched an eyebrow. "Why didn't you take a map?"

"Er, well, you see - "

"And why were you walking in a forest in the middle of a storm?"

"No! No, I fell asleep, and when I woke up - "

"You _slept_ in the Forest of Death?" Sheena asked, with a tone of much disbelief. "Well," she continued, a few moments later, "it's good to see you haven't changed."

"Yeah, thanks," he said, deciding to take that as a compliment, at least for the moment. Thinking quickly, he decided the safest route would be to change the subject. "Anyways, what have you been up to? I haven't seen you or the others in ages."

"Yes, that's true," she said, her smile fading. "You haven't been keeping in touch very well, have you?"

Lloyd sighed. "It's nice to see you too." He couldn't help but grin as she laughed, relieved that he had avoided her infamous temper. "So, seriously, what has everyone been doing?"

Sheena looked thoughtful for a moment. "Colette has taken over as teacher in Iselia, I think. She misses you, y'know. You should go see her. Anyways, Raine and Genis, as I'm sure you know, are traveling all over to help improve half-elf relationships - "

"Ah, yeah, that's right! How is that going?"

" - Regal is working with Presea to rebuild Ozette, and Zelos is working in Meltokio doing something or the other."

"And the people of Mizuho are settling into their new home?" Lloyd offered.

Sheena nodded. "And you, apparently, are wandering the world and destroying all of the exspheres."

"Yeah, that's about it," he said, suddenly pensive. "I've missed you guys. It's not nearly as fun going alone."

"No kidding. I think I even miss Zelos, a bit." She fell quiet for a long moment. "No, I take that back."

He laughed. "Ouch."

Sheena rolled her eyes, grinning. "But he doesn't need to know that. What are _you_ going to do now, anyways? Where do you have left to go?"

Lloyd fumbled a bit in the bag at his side before producing a crumpled list. "Not sure. I'm making good progress, though. Let's see - "

"You're keeping a list? Raine would be so proud!"

"Shut it. I was going to look into Ozette, next, just to see if there was anything left. Regal's rebuilding it, right? Maybe I'll see him there, if I'm lucky." He paused and glanced up at her, feeling a bit curious himself. "And what are you going to do? Head back to wherever the new village is?"

"Veridian Island."

"Huh?"

"That's the new place, in case you were wondering. And yeah, I'll probably head there in a bit, once I'm done here."

"Yeah." Lloyd glanced around, feeling a bit sentimental himself in the village's sunlit silence. "I'm glad I found this place, you know. Otherwise..." his words trailed off as his hand brushed against the bag he had unearthed only a short while ago, a vague image of the strange boy flitting across his mind.

"Otherwise?" The word was odd and quiet to his ears.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "It's not important."


	2. Chapter Two

Seravine - Chapter Two

[Author's Note: A bit of a warning is necessary, I suppose: I am a slow writer. Add on to that the fact that school will be starting within the next few weeks, and it is likely I won't update nearly as often as I'd like, so here's my apology in advance. That said, I fully know what will happen next chapter (the real fun begins), so I honestly believe it'll be written quite soon. Now, for the reviews:

Al: I'm glad you mentioned that, actually, as I forgot to bring it up in the previous chapter. Yes, Lloyd should be traveling with a companion, but for the plot's sake in this story, he's going alone. After all, if I did have him wandering about with the person he choose at the end of the game (Sheena, in my case), it would effectively set possible romantic pairings into stone, and I'd much rather write all the tension and triangles I could. ; )

FireEdge: Thanks! I'm glad it wasn't terribly confusing, at least in the beginning. Things will steadily grow clearer in the next chapters, of course.

Tearatone Maystar: I'm glad you caught those mistakes, I'll admit, as I couldn't find them. : ) I've read this chapter multiple times before uploading, but knowing my luck, I'm sure I missed a few things.

Potter29vo: Better late than never, right? : ) I'm sorry it's still confusing, but as that is a bit intentional, well, I guess I'm doing something right. This chapter doesn't reveal all that much about the overall plot, unfortunately, though it sets in motion a few events that are vital to later chapters.

That one guy: Glad to see you like the style! I'm afraid this chapter won't be terribly interesting, so I hope you'll stick around for future updates. And, as per request, the lack of Rheiard use has been mentioned, though somewhat sparsely. More detail will be added in later chapters as to why they are not being used.

That should be it. Next chapter, the fun (meant in the most evil of ways) will begin…

Thanks for reading, and please review!]

oOo

The first thing that struck Lloyd Irving was the silence; it was strange and pervasive and all of those other oppressive words, wrapped heavily about the cold stone houses of the newly rebuilt Ozette. Admittedly, Ozette had never been much for even the idea of hustle and bustle, due in part to the quiet sort of majesty that clung to the air - or perhaps the blame could be shouldered squarely upon the residents of the town itself, who were certainly as unyielding and regal as the great forests they had carved a life into. Seemingly little had changed, for even in the midst of reconstruction and renovation there was only the sound of his footsteps, and even those were muted and gray.

The second thing was likely the shrill scream that rent the air in two; immediately his swords were in his hands and his back against the frigid stone of a nearby home, moving cautiously so as not to be caught unawares. In the familiar silence that followed he could see little of the great fountain that sat squarely in the middle of the town, shrouded as it was in the morning mist, though Lloyd had a strange feeling that it was from somewhere within those depths that the cry had emerged. Throwing caution to the winds, he darted forth as yet another scream rose from the mists, the note hanging heavily against his ears before settling into the sound of sobbing.

The situation became steadily clear as he reached the fountain, the torrents of water still raining down into the great basin situated at the statue's base, seemingly indifferent to the young girl curled up in the grass close by. Lloyd bent to calm her, his eyes sweeping across the mist, his swords never leaving his hands. The sun's rays settled around the fountain, scattering the wispy clouds hanging atop the grass, and Lloyd stood to attention at the first groan, taking into careful calculation the horde of ghouls stumbling their way towards him. Cursing lightly under his breath, he stood and settled into his familiar stance, feeling that sweeping rush of adrenaline that could only come before a battle, and without a second thought ran forward, vaulting over the closest monster to land in their midst.

In a flash the nearest ghoul fell, torn in two under the edge of his blades, though Lloyd turned immediately from the sight and smell of its blood spread across the grass, forcing himself to focus on those that still remained. _Six more_. He was less than pleased to see a few branching off, stumbling their way into other parts of the town - thinking quickly, he ducked and rolled forward, winding his way below the ghouls' strangled moans until he could lift himself to his feet behind the stragglers. Executing a clean spin, he slid his swords neatly above the waist, almost wincing at the sickening crack as the two ghouls tottered and collapsed, their lower halves standing still for only a second before crumbling.

At the sound of a low growl behind him he pitched and twisted his body to the right, watching with a sort of amazement at the black claws sailing through the space where he had been only moments before. With a snarl the ghoul lurched forward to where he lay on the grass, bringing its fists in a tight arc, and Lloyd could only roll before leaping to his feet and thrusting his sword tips through the rotten flesh. The ghoul groaned, staggering, and he yanked the weapons back, watching with a hint of satisfaction as the monster fell to the blackened grass, a twitching corpse at his feet.

A thundering roar echoed behind him and Lloyd whirled, watching as a familiar boot swung in a deadly arc, snapping the nearest ghoul's skull cleanly from its neck. Grinning, he almost laughed aloud, bending to wipe his blades clean across the grass, the edges winking darkly in the sun. "Good to see you, Regal," he called, looking up to see every last ghoul laying shattered. The sudden silence was almost startling; the ruins of the battle were spread liberally around the fountain, but in one long moment Ozette returned to much as it was before, quiet and indifferent to the bloodshed.

Regal turned, a warm smile settled across his lips, and a brightness and strength to his eyes. His arms settled easily across his chest and he looked almost as Lloyd had remembered him, with the notable absence of the handcuffs and the burden he had always carried upon his shoulders. "This is a surprise," he said, with a low chuckle.

Lloyd stood properly and set his swords back beside his waist, crossing his arms in a perfect imitation. "A bit, yeah," he replied, his own laughter echoing in the fountain's downpour. A small sniffle tore him abruptly from his thoughts, and he turned to see the young girl dart towards Regal and throw her arms around his legs, sobbing. Regal smiled gently, and bent to whisper in her ear; Lloyd turned, shifting a rotten skull to the side with his boot, moving to get his first good look at the town since his arrival. It looked, truthfully, much the same as it originally was, though he was not very surprised to see a certain prominence set to stone, rather than the timber Ozette was normally known for. Almost instinctively his eyes fell across a single spot that stood alone in his thoughts; had it been only two months since they had found Mithos there, amidst the fire and pain his own minions had created? A wave of loneliness swept and left him within the passing of a long second, and despite his words with Sheena not a day prior, he had the sudden urge to take a long, much-needed break, and seek out all of his old companions.

"It's been a long time," Regal's voice came, and Lloyd turned his head a bit, nodding, moved briefly from his thoughts. The older man, in an unexpected display of affection, wrapped him in a one-armed hug, speaking over the fountain's roar. "It's good to see you."

Lloyd managed to break free, laughing. "Shame it wasn't under better circumstances, though," he said, nudging a nearby skull with his foot. "What happened?"

Regal shrugged, looking faintly troubled. "I wish I knew, to be honest. I was in the middle of a meeting with Madam Rose - that's the new mayor of Ozette, mind you - when I heard the screams." Something akin to anger flitted behind his eyes. "I shall need to have a word with the guards." He glanced towards a stone outpost situated not far from the entrance, which looked perfectly abandoned.

"Has this happened before?" Lloyd asked, wrinkling his nose as the corpses' stench assaulted his senses, suddenly feeling rather sorry for whoever would land the job of cleaning it all up.

"No," Regal said, shaking his head. "This is the first time, to my knowledge, and I shall ensure that it will be the last."

"Good." Lloyd turned suddenly, sweeping his gaze across the fountain. "What happened to that little girl?"

"Diana? I presume she has ran off to her mother - " Regal paused, and, with a small sigh, cupped his hands over his mouth, his voice rising with the winds. "It is safe!" The words echoed across the stone fields and out into the forest before fading into silence.

For a short moment, nothing much occurred, but then the first door cracked open - and then another, and rather slowly the townsfolk stepped back into the sunlight, looking perfectly relieved. Lloyd watched with barely concealed amusement as they merged slowly into small crowds, talking with hushed tones - for all of a long minute, Ozette faintly resembled a normal town, its inhabitants pointing animatedly towards the fountain and the corpses lined below it.

Regal wore a tired smile. "I suspect they'll wish to thank you before you leave. Diana's mother in particular."

Lloyd shrugged, trying in vain to play it off casually. "Nah, it was nothing, really - "

"Lloyd?"

A pair of arms wrapped tightly around him and, though somewhat painfully surprised, he came rather quickly to the conclusion that he was being hugged, and by a girl, no less. "H-hello," he said, wincing at the stammer. _So much for playing it cool_. The girl stepped abruptly back, beaming, and Lloyd caught sight of the familiar yellow dress. "_Chocolat_?" he asked, stunned.

She smiled and nodded, looking almost strangely cheerful, though Lloyd couldn't help but notice the pallor to her skin and the dark rings collected beneath her eyes. A quick glance to the side confirmed that Regal had noted it too; the older man was frowning, looking faintly concerned, but Chocolat still maintained a presence of optimism and Lloyd realized with a start she was speaking.

" - so long since I saw you! I never got thank you properly for everything you've done, you and the Chosen and everyone else. I'm really sorry for how I treated you after learning about Marble, you know - "

Lloyd simply smiled, feeling that familiar surge of guilt connected with Marble's name. Pushing it away, he closed his eyes for only a short moment, trying his hardest not fall back into the shadows of the past. A hand settled lightly on his shoulder and he shot Regal an appreciative glance, feeling slightly comforted. With forced cheerfulness he turned back to Chocolat, who had abruptly fallen quiet and was looking faintly disgusted in the ghouls' stench. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

Chocolat lifted the heavy satchel in her hand, shaking it gently. "I'm just on my way out, actually. Mother is the new mayor here, did you know? She wanted to come too, but she's a bit busy, you know." She paused, rather suddenly, and turned to the watch wrapped firmly about her wrist, her eyes widening. "Oh! I'm going to miss my boat!" And, with that, she gave a short curtsy and another wide smile, one that didn't quite agree with the exhaustion written across her eyes. "It was nice seeing you, Lloyd. I'll see you around!"

"Bye!" Lloyd called, waving at her retreating form, then dropped his voice and turned back to Regal. "She doesn't look so good."

Regal merely nodded. "I suspect all of the moving has been hard on her, particularly after Palmacosta was destroyed."

Lloyd gestured towards the fountain. "You've done a great job here. It's hard to tell this place was in ruins only a few months ago."

"A bit incredible, isn't it?" Something akin to pride flashed across the older man's face.

"Yeah! It's a great fountain."

Chuckling. "No, Lloyd. Isn't it incredible how quickly things come together? I never expected such a turnout; the amount of volunteers was simply astounding."

"Oh. Yeah." Lloyd knew he was blushing. "That too."

They stood in a comfortable sort of silence until Lloyd sighed, running a hand through his hair, and spoke. "Do you miss them?"

Regal did not speak at first, glancing down towards the pale skin about his wrists, seemingly in deep thought. "Very much, yes," he said slowly, mulling over the words. "I was hoping to schedule a reunion of sorts."

Lloyd brightened immensely. "Hey, that's a great idea! We could all meet somewhere and just catch up on things, you know?" He paused and frowned, previous good mood temporarily dampened. "Where, though?" he asked, glancing towards Regal, who appeared similarly puzzled.

"Altamira?"

"Nah, Sheena hates that place, remember? Triet's kinda hot and Flanoir's kinda cold, so I guess those two are out." Furrowing his brow, he mentally cycled through the remaining locations, and dismissing each as they came - until it struck him, seeming rather obvious. "My dad's place!"

Regal arched an eyebrow. "Dirk's home?"

"Yeah! It's great! And, besides, that's where it all started, didn't it?" He couldn't help but grin, feeling quite pleased with himself, knowing full well the dwarf was forever lonely and certainly wouldn't mind a bit of company. There was the added benefit of it being quite close to Iselia, of course, and chances were Genis and Raine might be paying it a visit, as well as Colette, eliminating much need for travel. "What do you think?"

"As long as your father agrees, I have no qualms with it."

Lloyd dismissed the notion with a wave of his wand. "Nah, dad won't care. He used to complain all the time that I was never home. He gets lonely, I guess."

"Yes, well," Regal said, with only the faint traces of a smirk, "you're not one for keeping in touch, are you?"

"Not you too!" Lloyd sighed, running another hand through his hair, and gave the older man a somewhat sullen glare. "It's not easy, you know. The Rheiards are back with the Renegades, so I can't exactly cross the world like we used to."

Regal held his hands up in surrender, chuckling. "Fair enough. Though I fear the others won't let you off quite so easily."

Lloyd paled. "Raine?"

The glint in the older man's eyes was rather frightening. "Colette."


	3. Chapter Three

Seravine - Chapter Three

[Author's Note: Another warning is in order: school starts very soon. As in tomorrow. As such, it is likely I won't have nearly as much time as I would like to write, and as a result this fic may not be updated nearly as often as I wish it would be. That said, this chapter is a bit longer than the others, so hopefully it'll last you for awhile. ; ) Oh, and this chapter should hopefully clear some things up about dear Richard, the fellow Lloyd's been having dreams about. I shan't say anymore, but he WAS a character in Tales of Symphonia, though I've had to take a few liberties, as he was an extremely (ie not even given a name) minor one.

**That one guy**: Good to see that you didn't mind chapter two's relative inactivity. : ) And I tried to make chapter three soon, so here it is!

Sining: Where's Presea? This chapter, actually! : ) I intended to put her in last chapter, but, ah, opted to wait until this one instead. And even in this chapter her role isn't very large, but she'll definitely have her moments some point in the future.

Al: Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed the fighting scene, as I wasn't sure how that would be taken. Can't say I've ever really tried my hand at action scenes before.

Kenji14: Thank you for reviewing! Yes, having Lloyd travel with someone would definitely nail down the romantic pairings, and I plan to have some fun with those first. : )

FireEdge: Colette angry _is_ a bit frightening, isn't it? : ) Sadly, you won't see it this chapter, but good (or bad?) things come to those who wait.

That should be it, I think. My apologies if I missed someone.

Thanks for reading, and please review!]

oOo

_The man's blood was nearly black and Richard sunk to his knees, shaking; the dagger had sunk so cleanly into the skin that it was frightening, though not nearly as terrifying as the laughter and satisfaction curling around his heart. That was number seven, already - certainly not the first and likely not the last of those damned fools who had came after him, had came cutting through the forest, fully intent on recovering what their employer had so tragically lost. He had slain every single last one of them, striking from the shadows, his dagger finding their weak hearts and tearing them in two. He couldn't quite decide which was worse; the fact that he felt no remorse for doing what had to be done, or the fact he was enjoying it, reveling in the cruel power he held in his hands._

_It was so strange, how things had changed; he had known it wouldn't be a simple thing, to make off with that fat merchant's jewel and to hide out the following weeks in the forest, if this still-quivering corpse below him was any indication. Richard was no fool - he was well aware that it would be quite some time before he would step from the safety of the forest's labyrinth and make his way to a new market, in hopes of pawning the gem off to yet another merchant. Weeks had already passed and still he was hunted, to the point where he had buried the jewel in a location known only to him, slaying all those that would dare venture close. And he would move swiftly back to it every night, when the moon at last made its way into the sky, and he would will the hours away to watch over it, not having much use for sleep._

_The jewel was strange and black - and it was so very warm, keeping him close and comforted in the coldest nights. He was growing to detest the idea of parting with it, as much as he knew he should; it would do a thief no good to grow attached to his plunder, something he had learned long ago, far before he had ever taken to accepting random jobs from the less scrupulous members of society._

_Footsteps._

_Moving quickly, he stepped back off the red-stained path and lowered himself into the shrubbery, watching silently as yet another fool made his way up the path, his bow slung carelessly across his back. The man was rather absorbed in a piece of parchment wrinkled and torn beyond belief - and Richard bit back a smile, knowing what was on it, likely a crude sketch of his own face, spread and circulated throughout the markets._

_"Gaoracchia forest," the man muttered. "This looks to be it."_

_Richard's eyes darkened and he tensed, steeling himself for the spring, the dagger crimson in his hand._

_He never was one to turn away a visitor._

oOo

Rain.

Curled safely in his bunk just below the deck, Lloyd awoke to the first drops dancing along the wood, following the crackle of thunder that had torn him from his sleep. His room, if it could be called even that, was decidedly _not_ snug and warm, being little more than a bunk carved into one of the four walls, a table, and a lamp that flickered with the ship's rolls, throwing strange shadows to and fro against the floor. He had decided, somewhere between the onset of midnight and the first taste of the storm, that it was going to be a difficult night; the ship rocked and rolled far too much for his liking, and more than once he had been sent tumbling to the floor as a particularly fierce wave rained across the deck.

And yet, for the most part, it _had_ been smooth sailing; the three-day trip was drawing to a close and in only a matter of hours the ferry would at last roll into familiar waters, and, from there, Iselia. At least, that was what Regal had said, shortly before predicting that it would be a rough night, and if the way the ship was creaking and groaning was any indication, Lloyd had little reason to doubt him. He nearly jumped as the ship took a particularly violent lurch, sending the lamp to swing haphazardly from its thin rope, throwing the room into a weird picture, wood and shadows in the corner.

He was growing to detest all semblances of bad weather; his mind never ceased to wander down that dark road into that night in the Gaoracchia forest, forcibly reminding him of the strange little boy and the even stranger gem sitting in its bag somewhere near his waist. He felt a bit foolish, at times, for keeping it so close, fully knowing it was probably little more than a strange antique. Granted, that was something Raine would probably cherish, useless as it was, though he knew better than to tell her that, having at least placed some value on his life.

Showing it to Regal had always been an idea, considering the man's appreciation for history and lore, but Lloyd had been strangely loathe to show it to him, a bit fearful of the reprimand he would undoubtedly receive for taking it from the forest in the first place. And in the back of his mind he knew that was a key - that the forest held some sort of explanation for the thing, held just one answer to his questions, if only he could remember it. Presea was an option, too, as she had joined their small group shortly before departing, and Lloyd had spent the previous days catching up with her, not in the least surprised to learn she had been a key factor in the renewal of Ozette.

She had, by her very nature, not appeared terribly excited with the prospect of the reunion, at least not in public, though Regal had confided in him shortly afterwards that Presea was indeed looking forward it and entirely unsure of how to show it. Lloyd had immediately seized that opportunity to chip away at the base of the rather stone-like Presea, though if the rather sizable lump on the back of his head was any indication, she was very content with the she way was, thank you very much.

"Lloyd?" A gentle knock came at the door.

"Come in!" he called, sitting up in his bunk and wincing as his back nearly groaned in protest.

The door swung open and Presea stepped in, looking slightly relieved to see him fully awake. "Can I come in?" she asked, somewhat needlessly.

"Yeah, sure," Lloyd said, swinging his legs around and sitting fully up, stretching. "I couldn't really sleep, anyways."

Presea nodded, moving a bit further into the room, before glancing around in what Lloyd guessed was a search for a chair. "The storm?"

"Uh, kinda," he said, finding himself not very willing to go into further detail, not wanting to bother her with his problems. "What are you doing up?"

Presea shrugged, standing somewhat awkwardly by the table until Lloyd, struck by sudden inspiration, stood and offered the bed to her, settling atop the table himself when she reluctantly moved to sit on the edge of his bunk. "Didn't feel like sleeping," she admitted, settling onto the hard mattress.

"Any reason why?" The ship took a sudden lurch and Lloyd moved to cling to the edge of his table, settling back with a sigh and glancing up to see Presea still sitting calmly, much as if nothing had happened.

"I have a bad feeling," she said abruptly, not quite meeting his eyes. "It's strange."

"What do you mean?" Lloyd asked, shifting to get a better seat atop the table.

"Do you remember when we defeated Abyssion?" Presea asked, seemingly ignoring his question for the time being.

"Yeah, of course," he said, a tad confused.

"And how the darkness almost latched on to me?"

He nodded.

"It's similar to that," Presea said softly, her hands clenched in her lap. "I'm not entirely sure. I just know something bad is going to happen."

"You don't think - " he paused, somewhat abruptly, not entirely sure how to word his thoughts. The younger girl looked pale and vulnerable in the erratic lamplight, and he was reluctant to go further, though she seemed to read his thoughts almost immediately, shaking her head.

"No, you need not worry about my well-being. That darkness was banished; it won't come back."

"Good," he said, genuinely relieved. "I don't want you to be possessed again."

Presea smiled. "Thank you," she said, quietly.

"So," Lloyd said, feeling slightly conversational. "Looking forward to the reunion?" Seeing her nod, he smiled himself, that familiar twinge of excitement coming back full-force. "I can't wait! Think everyone will be there?"

"It is likely," Presea said, a hint of thoughtfulness playing across her face. "It is a shame Kratos cannot join us."

"Yeah," Lloyd replied, trying very hard to squash that discontent feeling oft connected to his true father's name. "I miss him, as much as I don't want to admit it."

"Look at it this way," Presea said brightly, perhaps sensing his sudden change of mood. "You can visit Dirk!"

"Yeah," he said, with another smile. "I miss him too."

"There you are," Presea said, standing and moving towards the door, stopping briefly to pat his knee in what he gathered was a somewhat half-hearted display of sisterly affection. "It isn't so bad. Sleep well, Lloyd."

"G'night," he said quietly, watching her close the door behind her. The ship chose that moment to take a hard rock to the right and with a curse he found himself flung forward, landing on the wooden floor with a groan. Laying there, sprawled across the cold planks, he could only watch as the lamp shuddered and dimmed, throwing the room into darkness.

oOo

Stepping somewhat groggily onto the Iselia docks not half a day later was a blessing Lloyd would never forget; he had made it quite clear to his companions that Raine was indeed the most intelligent of them all, and not for her infamous ruin-mode, but rather her fear of all things water. It did help, however, that the day was a bright one, all blue and sunny and a handsome sky that quite distracted him from his previous bad mood.

The forests of Iselia were much as he had remembered them; towering trees and worn dirt roads that crept and stretched out before them, winding past the charred remains of the human ranch and out in the direction of Dirk's home. Lloyd was pleased to see that the monsters were few and far between, and even those that did step out on to the path gave them only a wary glance before sinking back into the shadows.

"It is quiet," Presea observed, her axe swinging loosely at her side. She appeared the most bothered by the lack of wildlife, in comparison to Lloyd, at least, who was relatively enjoying it.

"Come on, Presea, don't worry! They probably heard we were coming, you know, and valued their lives." He couldn't help but strike a valiant pose, feeling all the more excited to be so close to his home. "Besides, they're not stupid. They know when they're outmatched."

Regal frowned. "Don't get cocky, Lloyd."

"Sheesh. You sound like my dad."

"Which one?"

Lloyd paused, with an expression of deep thought. "Both, I guess. Kratos, though - well, you remember. He wouldn't let me have any fun." He could not help the reluctantly fond smile that crept onto his face.

Presea's voice was carried back on the wind. "Let's keep moving. I don't like it here."

Lloyd turned, somewhat surprised, to see she had strode far ahead, and was waiting at the crossroads between the former human ranch and the exit. Shrugging, he made his way towards her, still chatting amiably with Regal. "How does she do that?"

Regal spoke as if the answer was blindingly obvious. "She's short."

"Oh." Lloyd nodded, seeing the truth behind the older man's words. "True."

Presea stood still as they drew near, both hands wrapped firmly around the handle of her axe, utterly tense and cautious. Her eyes swept across the thick dust settled across the road, frowning, looking so severe that Lloyd couldn't help but ask what was wrong. "Nothing," she said, blinking and looking up to him. "Let's move on."

The trio moved quietly towards the exit, stepping onto the plain that separated them with only a single bend from Dirk's house, abruptly silent in the still air. Lloyd felt fit to be tied; he wanted to hurry the group along and make a dash for his home, anxious as he was to see his friends, but he knew when it came down to it the two companions already with him would not relish the idea of chasing after him.

Presea, if it was possible, spoke even less than before, her brow still furrowed and that frown still set against her lips. She appeared vaguely uncomfortable with the woodlands, often turning to glance behind them, and yet still keep in time with Lloyd's rapid pace. Regal was much the same way, his fingers encircling the pale flesh about his wrists, his eyes dark.

Lloyd paid it little heed; the last bend that would reveal his home was there, not a few feet away, and he stepped even quicker, grinning, knowing full well his two friends would have little to no trouble keeping up. The bend was close, now, and there, he was past it --

And time stopped.

The black smoke curled and unfurled about the home, wrapping itself tightly to the crimson flame that scarred and scorched the wooden frame; it was dark and majestic and the house groaned, the roof buckling, and through the haze he could see the timber rippling and bucking in the heat. Without a second thought he found himself running forward, leaping across the fragments on the bridge, mindless of the voices behind him, calling him back, the words lost in the home's shakes and groans. Kicking the door away he darted into the flames, nearly falling in the blast of heat, shaking off the fire and scanning the smoke with a growing sense of fear. There was a whining panic in the back of his mind, shaking him to his core, but he couldn't mind it, couldn't listen to it in the fire's roar.

How could this happen? Dirk was careful, he was cautious, the forge always bent to his will - and Lloyd could see the thing, there, charred and brittle in the flames. "DAD!" he screamed, turning this way and that, feeling so hopeless; moving quickly he made for the stairs, taking two at a time, and then abruptly falling back as the roof of his old room caved in, sending him tumbling down and back near the forge, his hands cut and bleeding from trying to brace his fall. This place was so strange; under the fire's touch everything changed, twisted, and warped, turning a damnable black, and he realized in a daze he had to get out, lest he follow a similar fate.

There was a gaping hole, there, to the left of the forge, carved into the wall, but the fire curled around it and he turned, standing shakily and stumbling towards the door. He could hear voices - Regal? Presea? - just outside and he wondered, briefly, why they hadn't followed him - and then the house was shaking, again, and shifting, and with a guttural moan the ceiling before him collapsed, sending him back, and showering the door with flame and debris. With a sinking sort of feeling he realized he was trapped - the door buried, that hole bathed in fire, and the second floor no more, the first soon to follow.

"No," he said softly. His lips were dry, cracked, but still the word was there, loud and clear. Clearing his mind, he forced himself to stand still, his legs weak and tired, his hands stained red. The windows - his only chance. There was one left, the glass spread across the floor below, shards still standing in the frame. Through the smoke he could only just see the sky; that blue, the strange blue, was tinted with black, until it was hard to tell when one shade ended and the other began. The flames rolled across the wood above him; with a start he made for the window, knowing time was not on his side. He could not help the hiss as he took his swords in bruised hands, but, steeling himself against the pain, he swung true, clearing the remaining glass and leaving a hole for him to go through. Stepping back, he braced himself for the spring - and could not help the cry that tore from his throat as a thick plank fell free from the ceiling, forcing him to fall back and take the flaming wood straight across his legs. Shifting it off, he rolled and tried to stand, only to fall back with a small cry, his legs numb and bruised.

And then he saw it, a single hand sticking free of a pile of wood in the corner, not a few feet away; Lloyd sucked in a breath and crawled forward, clearing the debris with his sword blades, trying not to shake as his father's face came into view. The dwarf's face was so familiar and strange, bloody and cracked, the eyes cold and unmoving. The rest of the wood was cleared with a dry sob, and Lloyd could only watch as the rest of his father came into view - or what was left. The bottom half, the legs, had been torn free, and the dwarf's waist was all blood and bone and burns.

Lloyd turned, feeling a painful twinge in his chest, and vomited, coughing in the blood that rained down across the floor. The room was spinning, fading, and he knew this was it - but he didn't want it to be, he didn't want it to end where it all started, he wanted to see everyone again - and the fire was so hot, so damn hot, and he slowly blacked out, collapsing next to his father.

oOo

_"I'm sorry. No - no, I am no fool. I am not sorry! This is your fault, fool!"_

_The dagger was pressed against the girl's throat - she was so young! - and Richard was shaking, holding her to the floor, trying to stop himself, and already knowing it was too late. The girl's eyes were wide and fearful and he knew he should have felt something, anything, for doing this, should have just let her go - but no, he could not, could not risk anyone knowing he was here, it was much too dangerous. The red lips moved - was she asking for release? No! He could not help her, it was her fault, she should have never come for the jewel._

_A clean cut against her throat and he leaned back, breathing shakily, watching her thrash and cry and the blood trail down the pale skin. It was beautiful, in a way, the kill, and he would watch for a bit, and try not to laugh. That fat merchant was a fool, thinking he would not dare harm such a fine lady. Richard had little compassion for anyone, regardless of sex or race, and this pretty thing was no exception. And she was even prettier, now, covered in the pale blood, the red as sickly and cold as her skin._

_It was the jewel - god! the jewel! - and he knew it was different, special, maybe even magical. It gave him this power, this strange sense of bravery and talent, enough to cast off his fears and add yet another corpse to his happy little pile in the forest. And it was changing the forest, too, turning it black and cold, and he didn't really give a damn. It was worth it; the thing could do whatever the hell it wanted, really, so long as it took away his fear and gave him that strength. He would not sell it - never. And maybe the gem knew it, but it didn't matter, now. It was a fair trade, in his mind, and he was glad of it. Richard was determined to step free of this forest, one day, and make his way back into the world. There was talk of a war, somewhere, a war to end all wars, and perhaps he would take a look at that. He had the strength and the power to make a difference; if he played his cards right, he would never have to worry, never have to live as a poor boy again, cold and alone._

_Slowly, he wiped his dagger against the grass, and nodded towards the still body, watching as it rose into the air and began to float slowly towards his pile, his collection, and he followed._

_It was a fair trade indeed._

oOo

Rain.

Was it raining again? And it had been such a clear day. Strange. Lloyd blinked, opening his eyes to a blue sky, and yet he was cold, damp, and sore as hell. The grass was cool against his skin, and he shifted a bit; a tad reluctant to move, but eventually giving up and moving to sit up, wondering if he had managed to miss the reunion.

Reunion.

Dirk.

That familiar whining panic was there; looking around, he was terrified to see the black skeleton of his home, _Dirk's_ home, ruined and smoking. And it came back in instant - kicking his way in, the stairs collapsing, finding the window, finding Dirk. That twinge in his chest was there, too, and his stomach was rolling, and he flipped over, his throat burning, and heard the voices.

"We can't find him."

"Lloyd?"

"Yes, Colette. We found Dirk, and - "

"But, hey, that's a good thing, right? That means he probably got out somewhere. Look, Lloyd's a stubborn guy. I don't think he'd let this beat him."

"Zelos has a point, for once."

"Sheena. You're too kind."

"Fire's out, sis. Tsunami did the trick."

"Thank you, Genis. Are Regal and Presea still searching?"

Lloyd stood shakily to his feet. He was close - somehow, he was in Noishe's pen, or what was left of it, at least. He could not remember how he got there; mentally, he could see the window, _Dirk_, and the fire, but from there it was black, just black, and the dream, the strange dreams that had almost been common every time he closed his eyes. Pushing it away, he made an effort to stand straight, getting his first good look at his friends, huddled nearby, each wearing an expression of sadness. They were all there - Sheena, Colette, Raine, Genis, everyone, they were all there, some worse than the others. Sheena looked brave and strong and smiled, but she was slumped, too, not looking very much interested in much of anything. And the others looked much the same.

And there was strange feeling to the air, to the back of his mind, that he had forgotten something. It was not the first time; he had felt this, once before, only earlier that day, in fact, and still his mind was dark and clouded, and he was having trouble concentrating, though one thought came cold and clear.

Dirk was dead.

He couldn't push that picture from his mind; seeing his father beneath the rubble, torn in two, in a pool of his own blood - it was terrifying and painful and he couldn't forget it, as much as he wanted or tried. And there was another thought, too, a question - _why_ had this happened? Why now? The how and the what could wait; Lloyd wanted to know why this had happened, why he was suddenly so alone, why the only family he had left was either torn or as good as dead thousands of miles away. He could almost understand Genis, then - no, Genis had Raine, he still had family. And they had a home, and everything else, too. And Lloyd was alone.

Raine. A thought struck him so easily that he was almost ashamed, in his grief, for not thinking of it before. Raine could cast Resurrect - she could bring him back, bring Dirk back to him, and he wouldn't be alone anymore. And already he was moving, out of the pen, stumbling towards the small group, and they had seen him, no doubt stunned at his sudden appearance. But he didn't care; he made his way for Raine and leaned heavily on his swords, his body still sore and weak.

"You can bring him back! You can cast Resurrect and he'll be okay, right? You can - " and he hated himself for sounding so weak, trying not to cry, and that crushing sense of despair wrapped itself around him when she shook her head, closing her eyes.

"No, Lloyd. I'm sorry."

"No!" It didn't make sense. She was a healer, she could bring him back. "Why - why can't you?"

Raine mumbled something, still not meeting his eyes, and Lloyd nearly collapsed in the swoop of anger that consumed him. "Tell me! Tell me why you can't!"

The older woman looked at him, at last, and her eyes were sad and strange. "There's not enough of him to bring back," she said, and turned away, bowing her head.

Lloyd realized, a bit late, that he had fallen. He was on his knees and that whining panic and that twinge in his chest threatened to topple him; he could only close his eyes and cry, feeling nothing, just cold and black and strange - except there was a warm hand under his arm, holding him up. _Sheena_. And another hand, too, settled on his back. _Colette_. And his friends moved closer, lifting him up, and his eyes sought the sky, maybe looking for answers. It was so blue, and so black, an odd mix of smoke and cloud, and it didn't give a damn about what was happening below it.

It was such a beautiful day.


	4. Chapter Four

**Seravine - Chapter Four**

[Author's Note: I'll be the first to admit, then, that perhaps taking five AP courses this year might have been one of my less brilliant ideas. : ) That said, the work has been easy thus far, though there's been quite a bit of it, in the form of homework loads that force me to not even look at this story until the weekends.

But, with this being Labor Day weekend and all, I sat down bound and determined to crank out the next chapter -- and here it is, in all of its glory, though I can safely say it turned out much darker than I had anticipated. Which isn't a bad thing, really, but all things considered, I'd say this is probably the least happy chapter thus far. Fun!

**FireEdge**: Yes, Richard is indeed the thief Zelos mentions, though I had to invent the name. I believe I mentioned that last chapter - my apologies if I wasn't clear. : )

**TalesofNoodle**: Heh, yes, Dirk does seem to be a bit expendable lately. I've nothing against the guy, personally... ; )

**That one guy**: Thank you for your continued interest. : ) And by the Iselia dock I meant a nearby port, really, but then again, what with all of the peace talks as of late, it's highly possible that an Iselia dock would have been built to accomodate travelers from all around.

**Sining**: Aye, that's the one. But I wouldn't be too certain of the plot - without giving much of anything away, I can say with some confidence that there's still quite a bit that must occur.

**jellybeanz225**: My lips are sealed. : ) I'm glad to see the last chapter set you thinking, however -- stay tuned. The answers you want will come in time.

**X37**: Thanks for the compliment! I can't say I continued very soon, unfortunately, but here it is, all the same.

**Hamano Ayumi**: Thank you very much! Yes, Lloyd is in for a rough ride, unfortunately. Dirk's death was just the beginning...

**LinkTetra**: You have my thanks for the detailed review. : ) I'm very glad the characters seem to be in character thus far; that's a sure sign I'm doing something right when I can really get into the characters' heads and romp around a bit. As for the romance -- read below. ; ) And thanks for adding me to your favorites! I'm quite flattered.

Romantically, I have to admit I'm a bit surprised that I've yet to receive a review openly stating preference for a Lloyd and Colette pairing. And while I still plan to go the triangle route, I want to thank all of the reviewers who mentioned which pair they are personally in favor of. Granted, the ultimate outcomes are still very much set in stone...and I daresay it'll be an interesting conclusion. ; )

Thanks for reading! My apologies if this chapter isn't up to snuff; I'm not quite sure if it's my best work, though I do think it is a far cry above the earlier chapters.]

oOo

He liked to think he was drowning, maybe, lost in the sea, and it was odd and lonely and all of those spectacularly meaningless words, words like happy and sad and good and evil. It was so hard to care - to sit back and just think, damned it, that everything was strange, and everything was wrong, and he guessed it was true that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. He supposed there was anger, too, somewhere around there, maybe beneath the waves; the black, warm waves, shining and shimmering under the moon. And perhaps that was the key - perhaps he could just close his eyes and hold his breath and fall to the bottom, pass below the red winds, pass below his strength and his tears and just let it all go.

He liked to think he was drowning, maybe, lost in the sea.

oOo

It was a strange thing, he decided, to stand with a candle in hand, for with the guise of midnight everything was so utterly pale, all white and black and shades of gray, shadowed imitations of morning splendor. And the candlelight made an odd mark against the desks and books of his old Iselia classroom, laying a warm touch to the polished wood, throwing back the blackness. There was an end to it, though, those corners just out of reach, and where the light could not tumble over his memories - there! the buckets! - danced those plain sort of shadows, leaping and rolling in the corner of his eye.

The place was much as Lloyd remembered it, heavy with that idea of innocence only a child deserves, and it was all he could do to not close his eyes and slip away -- back to the books and buckets and those strange things he liked to call simpler times, when he worried about right and wrong and no, Professor, I don't know the answer, why don't you ask Genis? He had been so _stupid_, then, so _naive_, so pathetic, taking everything for granted --

Enough.

Lloyd blinked, furiously, setting the candle aside and swiping at his eyes, trying to quell the heavy dread that had stretched and settled over his stomach. He had sworn not to blame himself, had sworn to put it in the past and focus on the now, had sworn to not cry anymore, and -- he knew they were little more than dreams, little more than hope, though maybe it was just enough to fool the others. The others had left him there, had decided to give him space, and he couldn't help the smirk on his lips when he realized that maybe being alone was the one thing he did _not_ need at the moment.

"Lloyd?"

He looked up, eventually. "Hey, Colette."

"Can I -- do you want to talk?"

He patted a nearby desk, moving to sit atop one himself. "Sure. Pull up a chair."

Colette moved slowly, taking care to settle on the desk closest to him, and then gave him a look of pure expectation, her eyes shining in the candlelight. They were so very blue, he realized, rather suddenly, and couldn't quite figure out how he had managed to miss it before. And her hair -- yellow, no, golden, framing an angelic smile in the wavering light.

Lloyd almost smiled. "So."

She merely crossed her arms. "So."

"How are the others?" he asked, after a lengthy silence, lowering his eyes, slightly troubled at having absolutely nothing to say.

Colette sighed, the sound fading and falling in the silence draped over the classroom. "They're okay. What about you?"

"I'm not really sure," he admitted, tracing a gloved finger across the desktop, still avoiding her eyes. He had the strangest feeling that she knew he wasn't being entirely truthful, and expected a familiar Colette reprimand, though his words met only another sigh.

"I'm sorry."

Startled, Lloyd snapped his eyes back up to hers, frowning. "What? Why? I already told you, Colette, stop apo -- "

"I'm sorry," she interrupted, her eyes still dancing in the candlelight, "that you have to go through this. I'm sorry you think you're alone. And I'm sorry I can't help you."

"It's not that!" he said, realizing rather belatedly that his hand had curled into a fist and fallen with a thud across the desktop, shattering the thick silence. "I just -- I don't see _why_ it happened! It doesn't make sense! Dad didn't have any enemies, everyone liked him, and nobody wanted him de -- " the word died in his throat and he looked to the side, shaking, wanting suddenly to wither the candlelight and be alone in the darkness, so long as no one could see his tears.

A delicate hand moved slowly to settle atop his own, and, gradually, his fist unclenched, and he let it fall with a sigh, still not daring to face her.

"Lloyd," she said, softly, and reluctantly he lifted his eyes towards hers. "Thank you."

He said nothing.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me. It means so much to me that you've been my friend for everything we've been through, and you need to know." Colette seemed suddenly so different; there was no hesitancy, no graceful clumsiness, just a will and a determination and he could only nod, realizing somewhere, in the back of his mind, maybe, what she was trying to do.

Lloyd squeezed her hand gently, once, and brought his own hand back to lift the candle, offering it to her. "It's getting late. Beauty sleep, right?"

Colette smiled, taking it, and slid somewhat clumsily off the desk, moving towards the door.

Lloyd watched the candlelight flicker and twist, and for a long second her footsteps stilled, and he looked to see her standing in the doorframe. The words sprung from his lips before he even realized he had spoken. "You're welcome."

He could feel her smile, somehow, and then she stepped forward, hair flitting and fluttering with the grace of a veil, and left him in the darkness.

oOo

Morning.

Lloyd was _there_ again. Back at the house - the black skeleton thing, crumbled and worn and sick, and he was standing just outside, under the sun, trying not to cry. He wasn't entirely sure why he had came back - why he had snuck out in the first touch of dawn and sprinted through the forest, the breath catching painfully in his chest, completely unable to stop, not until he was home. Maybe he just had it see it again. Maybe he didn't want to, but there it was, harsh and real, and he guessed this was it, that moment where it finally sinks in, no matter how long you've been trying to avoid it.

And there was just so many things he did not understand. That hole was there, the gaping break in the wall, and he had the clenching feeling that whoever had done this - whoever had taken _everything_ away from him - had made it, likely with the same hands that had torn his father in two. And yet Lloyd derived no satisfaction from the idea of finding this thing; it was something he had to do, he knew, but there was nothing more to it, not the heroic bravado he had always carried, long ago, before the fire and the smoke and the dreams.

He wanted the anger - the _fury_, the _passion_, to slam his blade into the ground and swear revenge, by the gods, for he was a man of action, not emotion or sadness or those small insignificant things. And he couldn't even have those - he couldn't have the crushing despair, that overwhelming grief, that dramatic flair. There was only a sick sort of emptiness, a certain blankness to the back of his mind, and he had decided that was quite possibly the worst of the lot.

It was strange, certainly, and confusing. Tears, he had plenty, but there was nothing behind them; there was no clawing agony or anything like that, just emptiness, and this small, odd voice, telling him that something wasn't quite right about this, that something was happening and he should see it, if he'd only just open his eyes.

Whining.

"Quiet, Noishe," he said softly, almost instinctively. A familiar nose nuzzled his glove, momentarily, before pulling away, and then an excited bark broke him from his thoughts, and he whirled, blinking away the tears. "Noishe!"

The green dog was panting happily, its monstrous tail wagging, and then it abruptly turned and bounded away, stopping just short of the woodlands to give him a pointed look. Lloyd stood still for a long second, watching, but when Noishe loosed another bark and darted off into the shrubbery, he found himself following, winding his way through the forest, only just keeping the flash of green in sight. He was crashing blindly through the trees, swords swinging wildly at his sides, and then he couldn't quite make it over that black root and he was thrown forward, sinking into the soft ground with a curse.

Gradually, he stood, dusting himself off, turning this way and that, trying to pick Noishe out amongst the tree trunks. Lloyd was alone, rather abruptly, and even the sounds of his breathing soon faded into silence, leaving only the leaves and the wind and rustling amongst the branches.

"Noishe?" he called, his voice unsteady, the word darting across the grass. And then he saw him -- the dog was standing just to his side, breathing heavily, and once again it turned and darted off into the foliage, leaving Lloyd to scramble after in its wake. His footsteps echoed almost alone throughout the woodlands, and he was tempted to stop, turn back, get the others, maybe, and then quite suddenly he was standing just to the side of a burbling steam, Noishe lost amongst the trees.

It was a relatively normal place, in all appearances just a small brook cleaving its way under the branches, but there was silence, too, a thick, strangling silence, broken only by the dips and whirling of the water. There were birds, at least, dark blots circling high overhead, though Lloyd paid them little mind, having realized rather belatedly he was completely, utterly lost. He had never before bothered to go far into the woods, and with a sigh settled down on the ground, wondering what Noishe had been so intent on showing him, this deep into the forest.

But it was a fine day, a bright, sunny one at that, and he willed himself to relax, to push everything away and forget it all, even if for only a short while. And he was so very tired; sleep had not come easily those last few days, putting him in a sort of exhausted wakefulness, and he laid back with a sigh, stretching out in the sun. It would be only for a little while; noon was only just coming and it was likely the others hadn't even noticed he was gone, careful as he had been to slip unnoticed out of Iselia. And, after all, a short nap wouldn't hurt anyone, would it?

oOo

_There was a single moment of recognition -- realization, perhaps, that there was another body below his hands, bathed in blood, and Richard shook his head and opened his eyes and fell back, his scream lifting into the trees, watching the body twist and fall with sick gracefulness. He couldn't remember - what had happened? - when had he - did he kill this one too? It was only --_

_A child. It was only a child._

_He turned, shaking, and cast his dagger to the side, falling to his knees, the breath strangled in his throat. The tears burned in his eyes and he wanted to cry, to curl up and forget it, maybe, except that he couldn't even remember how it had happened, how he had brought the blade across the little boy's throat. It was terrifying and frightening and everything else and he couldn't stop shaking, feeling so very tired, and for the first time in so very long - weeks? years? - he felt alive. There was a thought, there, lurking about his mind, and he didn't want to bring it up, hold it to the surface, knowing the answer would bring only more pain, more suffering, and more tears._

_How could he have killed a child?_

_It was just a small boy, a blonde-haired lad with innocence and happiness, looking for his mother, maybe, lost in the woods, and then he was on the ground and his blood was trailing down his chest, staining the skin. Richard watched him, watched the cold corpse laying in the dirt, and then moved to grab the dagger again, the memories rolling across his mind, knowing there was only one thing he could do. It had to stop here -- before anyone else could die, before he was completely lost, before the jewel, that damn jewel, took over._

_The boy's eyes were blank and staring, and Richard smoothed the hair from across the pale skin, hands still shaking. He wanted to say he was sorry and beg for forgiveness, to plead his case to the heavens, but the voice was caught in his throat and he knew there was a different way, one so very fitting._

_Closing his eyes, he brought the dagger level with his throat, testing the edge against the skin._

_It was sharp -- just sharp enough._

oOo

Lloyd woke with a cry, the sob shaking in his throat, and opened his eyes to an evening sky -- and there was a blade, _his_ blade, against his throat, and he tossed it away, flinging himself backward, staring at his hands with a frightening fascination. Had he -- had he almost done _that_? It made no sense, absolutely no sense at all, and already the dream was fading, slipping away into the depths of his mind, and then suddenly there was a single image before his eyes, of a forest much like this one, and a cold little boy laying in his own blood.

Scrambling forward, he made for the stream, dipping his hands into the warm water and bringing it to his lips, closing his eyes, throwing the water across his skin, trying vigorously to push it all back, to keep that image from his mind, to simply forget it and open his eyes to the falling sun. There was tears, again, and he brushed them roughly away, and when at last he was utterly drenched Lloyd sat back, clasping his hands together and willing them to stop shaking. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and saw his own reflection in the water, cold and pale, but there was red, too, flittering across his face, and then he realized with a growing sense of dread that it was not across his own skin, but that of the water, hints of crimson swirling and twirling into the stream.

And then Lloyd saw the boots, the familiar, godforsaken boots, buried into the streambed, and the legs attached to them, the blood trailing upwards and staining the clear water. And quite suddenly he could see why Noishe had brought him here, had seemed so adamant on showing him what he had found. Noishe had brought him to Dirk - the only piece he could find, the missing pieces, and suddenly Lloyd was running, up on his feet and crashing through the forest, not giving a damn as to where he was going, the tears nearly blinding him.

He couldn't stop to think; it would be dangerous, much too dangerous, to sit back and think this through, to realize what he had only just seen, and instead he kept running, the warm winds tearing into his lungs, until his legs nearly gave way beneath him and the trees came at last to a close, ending abruptly into a section he vaguely recognized as being not far from the old Human Ranch.

"Lloyd!"

He whirled, his swords in his hands, feeling so strange, so confused, and then Sheena was there, nearly bent double trying to catch her breath, and he realized that his chest was heaving, too, and he dropped the blades, falling gracelessly to his knees.

"You run so damn fast -- Lloyd? What happ -- are you okay?" And then she was kneeling beside him, holding him up, the concern and worry so very clear in her voice.

He couldn't answer.

"I heard you running," Sheena continued, talking more to herself, really, her voice warm and alone in the wind. "They sent me to find you, said they were worried, nobody knew where you went -- Lloyd, _what happened_?"

He looked up at her, eventually, not having the slightest clue of what to say. "Hey, Sheena," he managed, at last, wanting to offer a smile, maybe, but not having the strength to even do so.

"Lloyd?" she asked, softly, and then, looking almost unsure of herself, she embraced him, her arms hesitantly encircling his back.

Lloyd was motionless, staring blankly just beyond her shoulder, and then slowly he brought his own arms around her, taking comfort in the gesture, screwing his eyes shut and trying not to shake. A part of him wanted to pull away -- to stand up and look strong, to bring himself together and not give into his emotions, the part that hated him for appearing so weak. But there was something else too, a side he had almost forgotten since the day things fell apart, that kept him there, long after night had fallen, telling him to never forget that his friends cared.

"I'm sorry," he said, almost whispering, gradually disentangling himself and leaning back, seeing her own eyes dampened in the moonlight. She looked so pale and vulnerable beneath the stars, and he wanted quite suddenly to explain things, to set things straight, to bring that small smile back to her lips.

Sheena shook her head and averted her eyes, twisting her fingers in her lap. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me."

"No!" Lloyd said, a tad surprised at the vehemence in his voice. "It's not that! I want to tell you, Sheena, really, it's just -- it's just so hard," he finished, rather lamely, and with a sigh, decided to try again. "I found Noishe."

"Noishe?"

"Yeah. He was around, I guess. I followed him into the forest -- he wanted to show me something." He stopped, there, looking down at his hands, and dug deep for the courage to continue, casting about for the right words. "He found Dad. The...other half." The words sounded so stupid, so wrong, and he scarce noticed the tear trailing down his cheek.

"Do you want to tell the others?" Sheena asked, still gently, still very close, so that he could hear only her voice in the otherwise silent night.

"No," he muttered, for the first time knowing exactly what he wanted to say. "No. I don't want them to know." Lloyd looked up at her, then, and she gave him a shaky smile, her eyes bright with tears.

"Our little secret?"

Lloyd grinned, then, a genuine smile, and took her hands with his own, marveling at how very soft they were, and how perfectly they fit beneath his fingers. "Our little secret," he said, and was rewarded with a bright smile, one that brought the words to his lips before he even realized he was speaking. "Thank you, Sheena."

"It's, ah, nothing," she said, and he could easily see the crimson blush spread across her cheeks. "Just doing my job, right?"

He smiled. "Thanks for looking for me, too."

Sheena turned an even redder shade, her eyes falling to her hands still held in his own, seemingly intent on hiding her embarrassment. "Ah, no problem, really. Everyone was concerned, you know, but I'm pretty good at tracking..."

Lloyd made to stand, pulling her up with him, and gave her a quick hug. "I'm glad you are, then. I had no idea where I was going." He was determined to forget what had happened at the stream, knowing it would do little good to dwell on what he had seen -- not an easy task by any stretch of the means. "We should probably head back."

"Yeah," Sheena said, still a charming red. "They're probably waiting."

He turned, then, setting on to the path, though her voice called out to him not a moment later.

"Lloyd?"

He spun. "Yeah?"

"It's...our little secret, right?"

He smiled. "Of course. Why?"

Sheena shook her head, laughing softly. "Nothing. Not important."

Lloyd arched an eyebrow. "You're weird, Sheena, you know that?"

Her hand moved to grab his sleeve before he could turn away. "Does that bother you?"

He looked at her, then, studying her in the starlight. It was strange, really, how everything -- people, places, things -- changed with the rising moon, and yet Sheena was simply Sheena, pink bow, black hair, warm smile, no matter the time of the day, no matter the color of the heavens, and he knew the answer immediately, rather as if it was written amongst the stars.

"It makes you _you_, Sheena."

Her eyes were shining.

"And I couldn't ask for more."


	5. Chapter Five

**Seravine - Chapter Five**

Author's Note: Gah. Can anyone _please_ explain to me why I'm still doing artsy posterboard projects as a _Junior in High School_?! &$#!

Ahem. My apologies for the delay on this chapter; it's been about three weeks since I've updated, but, on the bright side, this is the longest chapter yet, even though I'm entirely unhappy with it. I've been writing and rewriting this one for so long I've just about given up hope; this is the most recent edit, obviously, and by this point I frankly hate the thing, so here it is, in its extended glory.

It's not _that_ bad, honestly, it's mainly just that there are certain aspects of it that I don't think were very well-written. Oh well - I'll let you be the judge of that, gentle reader, and as such I would be very much grateful if you would review!

**That one guy**: Yes, five is a tad bit insane. I probably shouldn't mention I'll be taking even more next year, eh? : ) I'm sorry the last chapter was a bit difficult to follow; hopefully this one will be a bit of a smoother read, though I'm also willing to blame it on your sister, heh. ; ) And don't worry about the three reviews -- like many authors, I'm not picky about where I get my comments, so the more reviews, the better, right?

**The Unknown Warrior 11**: Thank you! I'm glad it is a bit spooky, to be honest, as that's what I've been going (and will continue to do so in the next chapters). And yes, Lloyd will have a rather difficult time with this -- but when has _anything_ been easy for the poor guy so far? : ) I like the fellow, I really do...

**FireEdge**: Thank you -- scary is the goal I had in mind with that one, so I'm infinitely glad to hear that I managed to pull it off. Thanks for reading!

**jellybeanz225**: Thank you for the compliments on the writing -- that means a lot to me, given how much effort it requires to put pen to paper and then let (hopefully) many people read it, criticize it, and possibly flame it. : ) I'm glad to read you don't mind triangles, really, though I will be taking an active effort to make Colette less annoying and a bit more useful, so perhaps you'll dislike her a bit less. And reactions to the jewel in question are coming; stay tuned!

**Avari, wind seer**: I'm glad you stumbled too. ; ) Thank you very much for the review; it always does my heart (and ego) well to read that others like what I write. Hopefully you'll enjoy this chapter as much as you enjoyed the previous ones!

That's all of them, I believe. One more thing: I ask that you please don't forget that the romance in this story is going to be primarily a triangle of sorts, as certain events in this chapter will undoubtedly seem to point in the direction of one pairing rather than the other. Granted, I'm only just reaching the halfway point of the story's plot, so there is plenty of time for the romantic subplot to twist and turn. ; )

Thank you for reading -- and please review!

oOo

The tips of his fingers traced lazily across the glass -- up, down, left, right, intricate patterns atop the morning mist, circles and squares and all of those other shapes that never quite came to an end. An Iselia dawn was very much one to remember, all rosy and dark with only those first touches of sun, and Lloyd almost smiled at the sight, knowing it would not be long before the hustle and bustle of the village came to show. This was his favorite time, minutes before morning, when he was alone with the wind and the silence and that subtle mention of black sky giving way to just another day.

His hand fell, eventually, pulling back from the window, and he turned slowly to sit with a sigh at the schoolhouse table, not having even the strength to marvel at the vast improvements Colette had worked in her short time of teaching. The newly-crafted lounge had even become his living quarters, at least temporarily, though Lloyd could not be bothered to make it a tad more comfortable, opting instead to avoid his new _home_ at all costs. Tables, chairs, and bookcases, looking pert and new, encircled the couch he had utilized many a night to sit upon with his head in his hands, watching the hours crawl by, a ritual which had left him in an exhausted sort of wakefulness, never entirely awake and yet never entirely unaware, either, when the sun came at last to call.

Standing to moving tiredly towards the door, he eased it open and slipped out of the room, heading down the hallway, fully intent on stepping outside for a bit and letting the chill air ease away his fatigue. Lloyd had only just made it to the door when a familiar voice rang out into the corridor, turning him on his heels.

"Lloyd?"

He poked his head around the nearest doorway. "Morning, Professor."

Raine, looking the very idea of a teacher with a pair of spectacles perched upon her nose, set her book aside and motioned him in, waiting until he had slumped gracelessly into one of the chairs before moving to speak. "You're up rather early, aren't you?"

Lloyd only shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," he said, not bothering to go much further in detail.

The older woman appeared only vaguely convinced. "Mmm-hmm. And how long has this lasted?"

He couldn't see much of a point to lying. "Three days," he said, softly, fully expecting the rather frightening Raine reprimand, yet receiving quite the opposite.

Rather unexpectedly, Raine's face softened, her eyes taking on that first hint of concern, and she leaned forward a bit across the tabletop, studying him. "You shouldn't do this to yourself, Lloyd," she said, gently, her often frosty exterior momentarily relaxed.

"It's not like I can help it," he said, a bit sullenly, failing miserably at trying to suppress a yawn. "You don't have a potion or anything, do you?" he asked, struck with the sudden idea.

Raine shook her head. "Not one I would ever considering giving you. They're much too risky for cases such as yours."

"Oh," Lloyd said, momentarily disappointed. "Wait -- what do you mean, cases such as mine?"

"The recent events, naturally, are resulting in your insomnia," Raine said, rather as if the answer was completely obvious. "It's likely you are afraid of sleeping, perhaps subconsciously, and waking up to yet some other nightmare."

Lloyd merely blinked. "And you figured this out _how_?"

Raine sighed. "I'm well aware you've been garnering _some_ sleep, of course, likely unintentionally. Have you been having strange dreams, perchance?"

"Well, yeah, I think -- " he paused, frowning, striving to throw off his fatigue and reach deep into his memories. There was a few images, here and there, of a forest, and a boy, but little more, and Lloyd eventually gave up with a shake of his head, though not without the feeling that he was missing something rather important. "I can't remember any of them."

"That's perfectly normal."

"Yeah, I know," Lloyd said, leaning back a bit in his chair and stifling a yawn. "Still, I wish I didn't always forget."

The look on Raine's face was entirely much too shrewd. "Are you certain of that?"

"What?"

"Are you certain you want to remember?" she asked, still strangely serious, the corners of her lips quirked with the hint of a frown.

"Yeah, of course," Lloyd said, more than a tad perplexed. "Why wouldn't I?"

"They may reveal things you do not wish to know," Raine said, and, seeing him still look utterly confused, elaborated. "There are a number of details involving Dirk's death that do not quite make sense."

"Oh," Lloyd said, softly, sitting straighter in his chair, though his eyes never once left hers. "Is that what this is about, then?" he asked, somewhat surprised at the sharp tone to his voice.

"Forgive me, Lloyd," the professor said, raising a hand in complacence. The contours of her face softened, then, and Lloyd allowed himself to relax, though that straight seriousness was still about her eyes. "But do you remember what happened after the second floor collapsed?"

Lloyd was silent, then, darting back into his mind, pushing past the fire and the pain, coming eventually to the point where he had blacked out not longer after finding his father. He realized gradually that the older woman was right -- a few things _didn't_ add up, in their own way, the most important of which forcing its way to his lips. "How did I get out?"

Raine smiled, humorlessly, and nodded. "Very good. I'm afraid I can't answer the question, however."

"Weird," he said, still very much deep in thought. He had fallen, then, next to Dirk -- to awaken outside, quite far away from the danger, with no clear indication of how he had even made his way out. Lloyd curled his fists, almost subconsciously, feeling rather disgusted with himself. "Damn, I didn't think about _any_ of that. I couldn't get past Dad -- " and then that sick image of his father's cold face swam into view, forcing its way to the front of his mind, and slowly his hands unclenched, his eyes lowering to the table.

"I'm sorry," Raine said, her voice soft once more. "I know this must be very hard for you."

Lloyd said nothing, at first, staring at his own reflection in the freshly-polished tabletop, not quite caring for the gaunt and haggard look draped below his eyes. He was not nearly so churlish as to refuse their concern, of course, knowing that he should fully appreciate the fact that they cared, but, in the same instance, it was growing steadily more difficult to ignore those damnable flashes of pity he would catch whenever he truly cared to sit back and watch. "Thank you," he said, at last, with a grave sort of calm.

"What is that?" Raine asked abruptly, and Lloyd realized with a start that he had taken to fiddling with the pouch still tucked neatly into his belt.

"This?" he asked, lifting it up and laying the thing somewhat hesitantly across the table. "Take a look."

Raine stretched a few graceful fingers to grasp it, dumping its contents onto her palm, and Lloyd watched with an unknowing anxiety as the jewel came to the open. It looked much as he remembered it, all black and fire and cold, and he winced, raising a hand to rub at his forehead -- there was an unpleasant sort of buzzing, a rumbling against the back of his mind, and he shook his head, thinking to clear it, though the noise only worsened.

"Marvelous," Raine murmured, trailing her fingers across the surface, and Lloyd glanced briefly up to see her hold it towards the window, where only the most daring rays of sunlight pierced the glass, stretching out across the room and across the jewel, tumbling over the black gleam. The professor seemed entirely enthralled with the thing, turning it this way and that, her brow furrowed in thought, completely ignoring him.

"I've never seen such a thing," she continued, gazing intensely at the jewel, at least for a moment, before letting her gaze fall towards the monstrous bookcase. "Nor have I read of it in my books -- "

He would have laughed, maybe, recognizing her instinctive Ruin-Mode, but there was none of the normal humor to the idea; that gem was still shining and shimmering and Lloyd suddenly wanted very much to take it back, to throw it back into its pouch, to forget it, to go lay down -- and then that noise was only louder, shutting his ears to the world, and he realized with a cold sort of panic that he couldn't hear, that Raine's gentle murmurs had faded against the rattling, and even his own breathing had been entirely eclipsed. It was only strengthening, getting louder, nearly forcing him to his knees, and in a pained daze he pushed his chair back from the table and lurched out of the chair, only just managing to stay on his feet, and at last Raine had noticed, though no sound came across the room, no question from her lips.

"Professor," Lloyd said, through gritted teeth, screwing his eyes shut against the pain. That damn buzzing was tearing against his skull, only kicking up in volume, and he could almost make sense of it now, make sense of the screams -- and the room was spinning and Raine was rushing to his side, the jewel dropped rudely to the table, and then all was blank and for the longest second he couldn't feel a thing.

oOo

_Black._

_That was the only word for it; that strange sense of emptiness throwing a shadow atop his footsteps, mirroring his jaunt through the crowd, that thick mass, gray in all regards of color and taste, set in a silent circle about the scaffold. They were a somber sort of people, with eyes trained only towards the noose, and for only the shortest minute they barred him further passage, blocking his strides with their own._

_"Let me through!" he cried, and the crowd fell apart, cleaving unto two and forming a winding path. He hurried amongst them, sparing the blank faces no single glance, his footsteps sounding alone across the cobblestone. It was quiet, in every sense of the word, for this crowd gave no voice, and his breathing stood alone in winter's dusk. "Let me pass!"_

_And there was the body, swinging to and fro, wrapped about in the rope and hanging limply in the gallows. His cry rose sharply into the winds and he broke into a jagged sprint, dashing up the stairs, falling short only a few steps from the corpse. For one long breath he moved to touch it, to take the cold skin under his fingers, and then he fell back, letting that familiar fear latch into his veins. It was so wrong -- so strangely wrong, that they had slain this man, taken just another life under the rope, and already it was too late and absolutely nothing could be changed._

_"What has this man done?" he roared, turning to the crowd, and, perhaps for the first time, they turned and appeared to notice him. "Will you throw this life away?" Then came only silence, a thick end to his words, and he turned back to the body, feeling the broken tears trailing down his cheek._

_"Father," he murmured, taking the cold palm and raising it to his lips. "Forgive them," he said quietly, twisting the pale flesh beneath his fingers, "and I shall forgive you." There was so much to say -- and so very little words for the task, try as he did to bring those secrets to his lips. And already the moment had passed, for the crowd was shifting, slinking away, and then the sun had fallen and he stood alone on that scaffold, cradling the corpse's head to his breast._

_"Why did you leave?" he asked, twice, and held the white face tighter, trying not to shake. At length he lifted the form free and gazed upon it, taking in the empty eyes, and only then did he step away and leave the body in its noose, realizing perchance for the first time that this man had long been taken away. "Why am I alone?"_

_Unfair. That was all he could think; it was so utterly unfair that everything should have been stolen away from him, everything should have fallen to this red-stained rope, and almost savagely he took the knife from his belt and sawed at the noose, not stopping until his hands were bleeding and his father's corpse hit the deck with a thud. It was all so very surreal, even then, that this warrior of a man should have submitted to the gallows, and something so very strange about the smile that played across the blue lips._

_"Damn you," he whispered, and fell to his knees, the dagger flung to the side. In a sick anger he seized the white throat and tightened his grip, feeling a fleeting pleasure in the pale flesh beneath his hands, and he cradled and strangled this man until the moon had long risen -- and only then did he see the slight tremble to the lips, and a strange and fearful joy seized his heart._

_"Father!" he cried, releasing his grip, and almost smiling in the imprint of his thumbs against the cold skin._

_The head snapped up and its eyes were cold, strange and black, and there was a black trickle strolling down the lips. The mouth opened, slowly, revealing rows of red-rimmed teeth, and then it screamed, the cry piercing the heavens, and he could only fall back in horror as his father writhed, shook, and cried, the blood still raining down from his lips._

_Desperate, he seized the dagger just to his side -- and without a second thought plunged it deep into the pale flesh, the pale heart, laughing as the warm metal sink into the skin. Already the night was winking, fading, and his father, still screaming, until, at last, the corpse fell still, and, once again, he was alone._

_Black._

_That was the only word for it._

oOo

"Lloyd!"

His eyes came open -- and there was Raine, pressing her hand across his forehead, looking the very thought of concerned, shaking him gently. "I'm up," he said, slowly, his voice hoarse. The room was spinning, rather unpleasantly, and he could feel only a sweeping nausea clamped about his heart. "I'm okay."

"Thank goodness," Raine said, closing her eyes a moment, then helping him to sit up and stumble into a chair. "You frightened me." Her skin had taken an even more prominent pallor and her eyes were soft, almost fragile, and Lloyd realized there was something akin to fear in those depths, something he had seen only rarely in his many years of knowing her.

"Sorry," Lloyd said, a bit shortly, blinking a bit and gazing around, finding himself once more in the Iselia schoolhouse. He felt oddly detached from it all; his senses were sharpening, gradually, settling back to normal, but there was a curious lapse somewhere along the line that forced him to put his head in his hands and work through his muddled thoughts. "What happened?" he asked, a minute later, recovered enough to face her and at last feel the warmth of the hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know," she said, softly, checking his forehead once more, her hand warm atop his skin. "You simply collapsed -- "

"RAINE!" The cry snapped her head towards the doorway, and Lloyd spun somewhat dizzily in his chair, his eyes soon locating the small figure huddled at the entrance to the room. Genis was bent double, struggling for breath, and a long line of blood fell from a nasty gash across his forehead. "Town square," the young boy panted, his eyes screwed shut, "huge monster!"

Lloyd was up and sliding his swords free in spite of the nausea still running rampant atop his stomach. "Monster?" he repeated, as Raine rushed towards Genis, murmuring a few words and checking her sibling's wounds.

"Hurry!" Genis said, brushing his sister away, for the first time standing straight and looking Lloyd square in the eyes. "Sheena's trying to protect everyone -- you've got to help her!" His words rung quiet and true, and even Raine turned, halting the spell at the tip of her tongue.

"Go."

Lloyd needed no second bidding; blades in hand he moved quickly for the doors, breaking them open with a savage kick and darting out into the street. There was that same strange silence -- no shouts, no screams, no young laughter or tears, and he took to the main path with speed, feeling a powerful dread sweeping about the back of his mind. How could this have happened? _Why?_ It was so very strange -- and, then, another thought rose to mind, slinking forth from the shadows, and Lloyd almost hated himself for thinking it.

What next?

So much had happened, yes, so much had been torn in two, and maybe it was a natural thing, to wonder if there ever was some sort of respite, some sort of relief just beyond the horizon. Lloyd couldn't see it, try as he did, and every so often he would let himself wonder if this wasn't some god-awful dream, some terrible truth to wake up to and only remember in the throes of night. _I wish_.

There was only a house to go, then, and he ran past it at last, coming to the main square -- and then fell abruptly short, his footsteps wavering.

Chaos.

At last, Lloyd could hear those screams -- the townsfolk's cries as they came quickly across the road, not even stopping for those that stumbled and fell, and already that scent of blood was carried along the winds, whipping past him, carrying the feeble moans of those that had fallen. There was so much destruction; fires licked and frolicked along the housetops, throwing a deep smoke to the air, and Lloyd was flung forcibly back to _that_ fire not so long ago, in a much different feeling, a much different place. Struggling to push away that fresh surge of nausea, he stood straight, sweeping his eyes across the square, noting with a clenching anger the corpses strewn carelessly across the dirt.

And there was the monster.

"Marble?" he whispered, faintly, for indeed it looked much like the woman in those final moments, the towering creature bathed in blood. But this was different; there was a sick strength to the thing, a crimson tint to its skin, and it stood easily above the fires, sweeping its fists in a red spiral. It stumbled, slowly, dragging awesome fists along the ground, sweeping its gaze back and forth, and Lloyd felt the first trickles of fear as the monster took notice at last of a young girl with a pink bow, bent low to the ground with her hand clutched to her chest. _Sheena_.

The monster was turning, facing the girl crouched just a few feet away, and with a guttural roar that tore through the momentary silence, it brought both fists to the side, preparing for the final blow.

Lloyd was already moving.

It struck him strange, then, how everything seemed so very clear -- the reddish stain to Sheena's clothing, the dust and the pain collected along her brow, and the cards strewn uselessly at her feet, all shapes and colors and all draped with dirt. There was a finality to her eyes, a calm acceptance of her fate, and only a single tear carving through the dirt across her cheeks, proud and strong and everything Lloyd was running to protect.

He would only just make it.

With a hint of satisfaction Lloyd shoved her, pushing her to the side, and he had one long glimpse of the surprise and fear in her eyes before the fists came raining forth. They connected with a sickening crunch, slamming him to the ground, seemingly breaking him in two; Lloyd could hardly move, reeling in the white fire lancing through his veins, and still he could only see Sheena's face, see the horror in her expression and the regret already written into her brow, and even so he could feel only relief, relief that he had saved her, and the cold hard pain tearing into his skin. He wanted to apologize -- to tell her he was sorry, to tell her to run and get help, and then there was another blow to his side that swept him clean off the ground, and he had a sick feeling of flight before crashing atop his knees.

There was only the pain, a thick rage storming about his blood, and slowly Lloyd moved, pushing himself forward, testing the strength remaining in his bones. The monster was there, not a few feet ahead, lumbering towards him, and Lloyd crawled painfully to his knees, biting back the agonized cry that leapt to his throat. He could only just move, dazedly bringing a hand to scrounge about in his belt, hoping to find something, anything, to turn the monster away -- and his fingers closed around something familiar, something he wasn't even aware he had, and then he felt only a dark hand lifting him to his feet. It was the jewel -- that black gem, back in its pouch, somehow, and Lloyd closed his hand about it, reveling in the strange power washing over his wounds. All at once the throbbing faded, the pain seemed swept away, and a terrible strength brought his swords to hand, and again he was moving, gliding easily across the ground, not even fully aware of what was happening.

Later, he would wonder just how he had managed to move so fast, to run with such speed and strength, given the crippling pain that had nearly broken him not a moment before. There was a strange vitality to his blood, setting him alive with an equally odd sort of fire; such a powerful adrenaline was nearly frightening, in its own way, but Lloyd could spare it no second thought.

Leaping, he twisted his body forward and brought his blades in a crimson arc, his roar ripping through the dust and the wind and bringing the monster to raise its fist for another swing -- and then only to fall back as Lloyd wrought two great slashes across its chest. Thinking quickly, he maneuvered to hit the ground in a roll, darting between the monster's legs and jutting up behind it to execute a neat whirl, feeling great satisfaction as the swords, glinting with a dark sort of fire, severed the thick muscle at the ankles. At once, the beast tottered, its legs giving away, and it fell forward with a rumbling groan, collapsing into the dust with a thud that nearly knocked Lloyd from his feet.

It was all over in an instant -- the monster's moans and groans echoed heavily through the dust, and the great form writhed and thrashed, unable to bring itself to its feet. Lloyd simply stood behind it, blinking in the dirt rushing by with the wind, and slowly sheathed his swords, feeling the great power and strength to his muscles ebb and fade.

He moved to stumble over to Sheena, finding the searing pain stepping up alongside an overwhelming weariness, to the point where he nearly collapsed into the dirt alongside his foe. She was still crouched, there, a hand to her chest, and Lloyd felt that familiar gnawing worry step up as he sunk to his knees beside her.

"Hey," he said softly, reaching a hand to gently touch her arm -- and only slowly did she look up, trembling, and abruptly threw her arms around him, sobbing into his chest. In a sort of nervous exhaustion he wound his own arms across her back, letting her cry, forcing himself to forget his pain for a moment and see this side of Sheena she only rarely let anyone see. He had always known there was more to her than the tough exterior, that she was someone probably not very different from himself, and as it was for the first time in so very long that he had seen her cry, he said little and just held her, still mindful of the beast moaning and twitching behind him.

Gradually, her cries stilled, and she pulled back almost roughly, averting her eyes and rubbing at them with a weak fury. She looked entirely displeased with herself, her shaking hands clenching and unclenching in fragile fists, and Lloyd could just nearly see that barricade she always carried being quickly rebuilt.

"No," Lloyd said, raising a hand once more and pulling her own fingers away. "Don't," he continued, blinking back the unsettling wave of pain raining across his skin. "Don't hide it."

She said nothing, still staring at the dirt, trembling.

"You're safe," he said, only partially aware of the words slipping free of his lips, fully intent on snapping her free of her tears. "I don't care if you don't want anyone to see you cry," he went on, somewhat rambling, taking her hands and holding them in his own. "No one is here. Just me."

Sheena nodded, slowly, and Lloyd brought a few fingers to lift her chin, gently forcing her to look at him. There was a tiny cut, settled just below her eye, and he brushed his thumb over it, carrying the blood away, finding her eyes damp and warm.

"It's just me," Lloyd said, slowly removing his hands. "It's just me."

"Okay," Sheena said at last, her voice dry and low, the word wavering in the dusty air.

He gave her a tired smile. "Good," he said, clasping her in a hug, and waiting until at length she stopped shaking and gave him a small smile. "That's my girl," he joked, and then winced, raising a hand to clutch his own side, where the shirt was sticky and smelt of blood.

"Lloyd," Sheena began, trailing off, her eyes dark and concerned. "I thought -- I thought you were dead," she admitted, in all reluctance, closing her eyes momentarily.

"So did I," Lloyd said, softly, his own eyes falling to the pouch still sitting at his belt. He was half-tempted to take that gem again, bring into his palm, and see what would happen; but then the memory of that terrible power floated to the surface and he quickly looked away, turning back to the monster behind him, not wanting to dwell on all of that what had happened.

He moved to stumble to his feet, more than once having to pause and let Sheena help him, finding himself almost robbed entirely of his strength -- of that fearful adrenaline he had felt not so long ago. And his wounds had slipped easily into their old fire, the white pain arching across his bones, and he had neither the want nor the inclination to marvel that he could even walk, in utter defiance to what he sure was a few cracked ribs, bruised spine, and no small number of cuts and gashes that rained blood atop the dirt.

The monster was still laying there, unable to lift itself from the dirt, groaning and thrashing, though it grew strangely quiet when Lloyd drew near. He watched it for a long while, sweeping his eyes across the powerful form, noting the deep gashes spread across its skin. It was such a great and ugly thing, gazing at him with only the blackest eyes, the fire-stained fists shifting slightly.

Fire.

Lloyd fell back in surprise, his strength wavering, blinking his eyes against the strange image that had torn across his mind. And the monster was still only staring, never once looking away, and he looked up to it with a odd sort of horror, thrown against his will to that time so long ago where Marble had done such a similar thing, had given her last words through such a monstrous roar.

Fear.

Shaking his head, Lloyd shut his eyes, raising a hand to his forehead -- that buzzing was starting anew, raining against his mind, and even now a dull pounding was nearly forcing him to his knees. _Not again_. It would do no good to lose control now, not until help came; the others -- Raine, Genis, where were they? That simple conversation this morning, back in the classroom, seemed so very long ago, back before this nightmare had come, back before Iselia had been torn in two.

Blood.

Slowly, he fell to one knee, gritting his teeth against the throbbing ache clashing about in his skull, and already he was growing numb, losing that stinging roar in his veins, such that he could only just feel that horrible sensation of his blood dripping down his skin. Not now," he murmured, faintly.

_Dwarf_.

Lloyd snapped his eyes back to the beast; instantly, a terrible suspicion grew into his thoughts, and he forgot that throbbing for a long second to watch the monster through weary eyes, wondering, somewhere, in the back of his mind, maybe, what he was being shown, and why.

Wall.

In an instant he could see that hole, that monstrous hole bathed in flame, back at his Dad's house, the hole no man could make -- and all at once it clicked, everything fell into place, and he realized with a surge of anger that _this_ thing was the murder, the _scum_ that had taken everything away.

Struggling to his feet, he realized somewhat belatedly that he was gasping, struggling for breath, and he made a visible effort to calm himself before stooping to scoop his swords from the dirt below. This was it -- that one moment where it all came to a close, where he would have to stain his blades, and, for the first time in his life, Lloyd was marginally surprised to find himself completely without remorse for what he had to do. There were so many unanswered questions, yes, but he couldn't be bothered to ask them, not when the only answer he could have ever wanted was stretched out in the dirt before him and watching with coal-black eyes.

Footsteps.

"No!" a voice cried, somewhere, and abruptly his hands were pinned to his sides, and he could feel warm breath just behind his ear. "Don't," the voice said, and Lloyd realized, gradually, that it was Sheena, who had guessed, somehow, what he had planned to do. "Please, Lloyd." Had she -- had she seen those images, those pictures, too?

"Let go," he said, his voice cold and strange, struggling his hardest and yet finding the girl's grip surprisingly strong.

"Leave it," Sheena said, softly, though still holding him tight. "Please, Lloyd -- let the others take care of this!"

"You don't understand!" Lloyd roared, almost reeling as the pure fury of his words echoed into the air. "I have to do this!" He pulled and fought, finding that damnable throbbing settling back in, and, try as he might, he could not break her grip.

Sheena simply held him tighter. "Your dad wouldn't want you to be a murderer," she said, gently, and Lloyd fell abruptly still, shaking.

"You don't understand," Lloyd said, again, his voice low and hoarse. "This -- this _thing_ killed Dad."

Sheena's grip loosened, suddenly, perhaps from surprise. "How do you know?" she whispered, so quietly, and Lloyd realized with a start that maybe -- just maybe -- she was beginning to understand, beginning to recognize what he had to do.

"I just know," he said, still staring at it, finding the beast's eyes closed and its breathing slowed. Lloyd turned, slowly, to look his friend directly into the eyes. "It...showed me."

"I trust you, Lloyd," Sheena said, softly, and there was something so very similar to fear in her eyes.

"I know," he said, and with what he hoped was a confident smile, turned back, stepping forward just a bit and raising the tips of his swords in his usual stance. There was no longer that all-consuming anger, just a sense of need -- that was the only way to think of it, he knew. This was something he had to do, something entirely inevitable, and, with one last look into the dark eyes, he steeled himself for the task.

"Lloyd," Sheena's voice came, once again, tearing him from his thoughts, and he turned his head to find that they were all there -- all of the others, all of his friends, standing in a strange circle behind him.

Lloyd moved to face them, eventually, leaning heavily on his swords, not saying a word and at the same time utterly challenging every last one of them to stop him. He wanted to be angry, to forget them all and just do the damn deed, at least until he caught sight of Genis, those tears along his friend's cheeks, and he could only close his eyes, knowing exactly what the younger boy was seeing. He knew, then, that he _did_ have a choice, one upon which seemingly everything rested.

Kill me.

Lloyd stiffened, feeling the monster's voice ring grotesquely in the air, and brushed roughly at the tears stinging against his eyelids. And they were all watching -- every last one of his friends simply stared, waiting for him to move, and he realized with a start that perhaps _this_ was what it meant to be a leader, to make those decisions between life and death and know that those you hold close may hate you for it. It was a decision he didn't want to make.

"I trust you, Lloyd," Sheena said, quietly, so that only he could hear, and he turned to her in almost desperation, maybe hoping to find the answer. But she simply smiled, a smile he had seen not so long ago, and he had a brief recollection of a night seemingly ages past, with the moon and the stars and the little secret they'd made as the winds rushed through the trees. And suddenly the answer was so very simple; there was only one thing he could do, really, the best course of action for Sheena -- for all of them. Closing his eyes, he loosened the grip along his swords, letting them fall to the dirt.

"_Resurrection_."

The word rang hard and cold into the air, and Lloyd opened his eyes to watch with a mingled dread and relief as Raine stepped forward, her staff in hand. He had failed, maybe, lost his once chance of revenge, but then again he couldn't help but think that the choice had already been made so long ago, perhaps the moment he'd realized that he didn't have to make the decision alone.

The spell's warm light wrapped and bended, stretching itself over the beast, and the great form twisted and shrank, the powerful muscle fading, until the only thing left was human, until there was only a yellow dress, tears, and a single word set against Lloyd's lips.

He liked to think time stopped.

"_Chocolat_?"


	6. Chapter Six

**Seravine - Chapter Six**

Author's Note: Gah. So very tired. Who would have thought writing a chapter could take so much out of you?

On the bright side, however, so much effort has brought the longest chapter yet, and, to celebrate that utterly useless achievement, here's a brand-spankin' new thing I like to call the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly! Enjoy, folks -- yes, I am that tired.

The **Good**: Longest chapter yet! Oh, and, well, I don't actually hate this chapter, like I did the last time, so I suppose that's rather nifty too. Some romantic development as well, though it gave me fits to write it -- who would have thought writing Lloyd's thoughts on romance would have been so damn difficult?

The **Bad**: Yes, I don't hate it, but there are certain parts to it that I don't quite like, either. You should be able to pick them out relatively easy; anytime you come across a section that is written awkwardly, know, without a doubt, that I hate it with a fiery passion. It's easier that way, isn't it?

The **Ugly**: Clueless!Lloyd makes an appearance. Enough said.

Now, for my reviewers:

**Avari, wind seer**: Thank you! I am very glad to see that the more narrative-oriented passages weren't a spectacular failure. And I'm relieved you like the twist, too -- hope this chapter suffices!

**jellybeanz225**: What were you expecting? : ) I'd love to hear, actually, now that I think about it. Thank you for your wonderful comments; they mean a lot to me, I assure you. And as for Lloyd -- well, stay tuned. He's doing well against the jewel...for now.

**Im that one guy**: Webster and Poe, hmm? : ) I could only wish I was nearly so good as those two, but thank you for the compliment, regardless. My apologies for the grammar mistakes, of course -- just goes to show that multiple rewrites aren't always for the better, heh. And Sheena? Stay tuned. Yes, it is a bit odd that she didn't summon, and you'll find out why relatively soon. Not this chapter, unfortunately, but likely the next. Thanks for reading!

**Kanji-Neko**: Thank you! I'm relieved that I've somehow managed to keep all of the characters in-character thus far, to be honest, as it's much harder than I imagined to write certain characters, a blonde-headed Chosen in particular. As for the lack of the aforementioned Chosen and Zelos, well, yes, Zelos has been a bit absent, I'll admit, but Colette did have a moment in chapter four, I believe. My apologies for the seeming disregard of those two; while the problem isn't remedied in this chapter, stay tuned, as the much-delayed reunion _is_ going to occur one day soon. : )

**FireEdge**: Don't worry. Better late than never, right? : ) And I'm very relieved you liked the ending, as, perhaps needless to say, that gave me an ungodly amount of fits when I sat down to write it. And if you love chapters, then you should enjoyed this one, hopefully, as it clocks in at around eleven pages, I believe.

**Sining**: Good to see you're still around; for awhile there, I was wondering if we'd ever have any more fics from you. : ) And as for how the monster turned out to be Chocolat, well, read on..

And I think that's it. My thanks to everyone who has read thus far; as always, I ask that you please review, particularly now that I'm heading into unknown territory -- i.e. romance triangles. They're made infinitely harder due to Lloyd's cluelessness, you see, and any input on that aspect of the story or really any part of the tale in general is much appreciated.

Oh, and one more thing. A previously unmentioned pairing is mentioned somewhat extensively in this chapter; at the risk of alienating a few readers I will say that I do **not** support this pairing enough to make it an active part of the story, so please do not expect to see it pop up more than a once or twice in the rest of the story.

Thanks for reading!

oOo

"_Chocolat_?"

Silence.

It could only be described as deafening; all at once Lloyd could see the tears along her face and the blood collecting at her ankles and the sickly white bone jutting forth from the broken skin, all pale and splintered, and slowly he fell back, stumbling, gazing blankly at his own swords, the blades glinting beneath the dirt, the edges lined with fresh blood. Everything was much too clear, much too real -- much too quiet, so _damn_ quiet, and he wanted someone to say something, _anything_, to take away this pain, to take away this fear. A biting sort of emptiness had clutched his nerves and forced him to his knees, stealing all thoughts from his mind, all words from his lips, all except for a single line that absolutely refused to be pushed away.

I almost killed her.

Chocolat -- he'd almost thrown her life away with but the swing of his swords, with only the cross of his blades, and, god, it was a terrible feeling. A life was something so fragile, so precious; Lloyd had always know that, had always prided himself in knowing that, and yet -- he'd almost slain that beast without a second thought, with absolutely no regard for the flesh and the tears and the human locked deep inside, and _that_, maybe, was the worst part to it all, the realization that for the first time he could identify, albeit unwillingly, with Mithos. He wondered where that black line had been drawn, when he had stepped past the hero's naivety, when he had understood at last that there was no black and white, no good and evil, only pale gray and a murky red -- and something so very similar to panic had seized his heart and twisted, cutting his breathing short, and Lloyd realized, dimly, that he was coughing, wincing at the fire in his lungs and the crimson trickle trailing down his chin.

All at once Raine was moving, her footsteps fluttering out and about the corner of his eye, bending near Chocolat and murmuring, softly, running the tip of her staff down the pale skin. And quite suddenly Lloyd could hear -- could only just pick out the professor's gentle spell and the crackle of the fire dancing along the rooftops, and there was the wind, a hint of thunder in the distance, and his own breathing, shallow and pale, wracked still with heavy coughs.

Sobbing.

He didn't want to hear it; Chocolat's tears and her anguish were coming in great gasps that fell heavily against his ears, cold, alone, high and piercing and above the rest, such that all else sunk into a dull throbbing, only a faint murmur, set beneath the screams and the pain. Lloyd murmured her name, once, and brought his hands to his ears, screwing his eyes shut, and still he could hear it -- the lone cry in the background, raining against the red-rimmed fingertips clutched tightly to his head, and he realized he was crying, too, feeling so very tired. Desperate, he slid his eyes open, looking up through the pain, and he caught a single frightful glance between the folds of Raine's robe.

Chocolat was looking towards him, a slow and wild gaze to match his own, and Lloyd thought for one long second he could see himself in the black depths, could see the anguish written across his brow, could snatch a picture of his shadow fallen to its knees beneath only the plainest blue sky.

Maybe it was just his imagination.

But already there was this strange feeling, this terrified and angry chord struck deep into his heart, and then the emotion was coming at last -- and the world spun, fading, and still he could hear only _her_, her cries and her tears, and his swords still were glimmering, pale and red beneath the dirt, the edges bathed with blood.

oOo

_"Richard?"_

_The word echoed against the shadows and he turned, slowly, sliding the dagger which had sprung almost instinctively to his hands beneath the folds of his cloak. "Oberion," he said, stepping into the sunlight, letting the hood fall back from his face._

_The man blanched, falling a step back, pawing almost nervously at the gaping socket of his left eye. "By the gods," he said, with an expression of wonder carved into the lines thrown about his face. "Haven't laid eyes on you in ten years."_

_Richard merely nodded. "It's been a long time," he said, his fingers still wrapped about the hilt obscured at his waist, a growing sense of irritation and anger scuttling about the back of his skull._

_"Aye," the other man agreed, quickly, swiping at the sweat trailing down his chin, the black-stained hands spreading only more dirt across his skin. "What brings you here?" he asked, needlessly, letting his gaze fall to the ground._

_"My father," Richard said, quietly, and watched with a hint of alarm as Oberion flinched, turning his good eye to the side, falling back and twisting his hands tightly in his stained apron._

_"Oh. Have you -- have you not heard?"_

_"No," Richard said, lowly, forcing his hand from straying out of habit to finger the white arc across his throat. "Tell me," he continued, striving not to betray the urgency to his tone._

_Oberion turned, a bit, his one eye rolling to and fro across both entrances of the alley, and then he sighed, hanging his head. "He's dead. They hung him not two moons ago."_

_Richard stiffened, the fingers tightening around his dagger, and in a mere second the blade was out and pressed tightly to the base of the other man's neck. "That cannot be true," he said, angrily, digging the white tip deeper and watching with a grim smile as the blood fell lightly to the dirt. "I suggest you not lie to me, Oberion."_

_The other man squirmed, his eye giving great hint to his fear, his hands caught uselessly in the apron at his waist. "No," he gasped, avoiding the younger man's eyes, giving a slight shake of his head, "I tell the truth." Abruptly he exhaled as the dagger tip slid free of his throat, and he backed warily away, brushing the back of his hand against the skin in hopes of stemming the blood._

_"It is as I dreamed," Richard said, softly, turning his gaze away, the fingers latched to the dagger pale and white. "Sylvarant?"_

_"Aye," Oberion said, pushing his fingers tighter about his throat, embracing the blood. "They delivered his body this morning." He gestured, silently, to the side, where a small crowd could be seen gathered in a dull circle._

_"And the war continues?"_

_"Aye," Oberion returned, looking apprehensive for all of a second before moving to speak. "Richard -- what happened to you? They said you stole -- " he groaned, then, pawing at the dagger torn deep into his chest, grasping weakly at the hilt and crumbling to his knees. Already his apron was strained, carrying the trail of his blood, and his lips moved quietly, the one eye rolling back towards his skull._

_"Thank you," Richard said, quietly, laying his boot atop the man's jaw, "for the information. I'm afraid I can stay no longer -- Gaoracchia calls." With a dull snap the man's neck was shattered, the head rolling to the side, and Richard pulled his blade free with ease, tucking the red dagger back into his belt._

_He turned, then, towards the gates, striding easily beneath the gathering clouds._

oOo

Rain.

He was warm -- and slowly his eyes slid open, coming to his schoolhouse room, falling upon that window set against the wall. The glass surface was frothy and worn, hammered relentlessly with the downpour, and only every so often did a cut of lightning send its flash through the window, throwing his room to a fleeting glow. He was spread out atop the couch, settled comfortably into the cushions, and despite the screams of pain lancing out beneath the heavy bandages across his torso he stretched a bit, shifting against his pillow, feeling remarkably refreshed.

For that short while he could almost forget it all; for those rainy minutes there was only a pleasant blankness about his mind, a dull edge to his thoughts, and it seemed such a blessing, really, to lay there beneath the blanket and listen to the wind just beyond the window. He felt so alive, then, resting with a smile -- but already it was trickling back, already the memories were rolling in, of a black-tinted dream and the red-stained dirt, and he wondered, with a flittering despair, if such powerful rain could ever hope to wash away the fire and the pain that had come to cloak Iselia's very name.

Gradually, he became aware of a warm weight settled atop his stomach, and slowly his eyes dropped to a familiar mass of blonde hair set out atop his blanket. _Colette_. She had fallen asleep, somehow, slouched forward in her chair, her arms serving a makeshift pillow just above his waist, her face turned towards his. She had a hint of pallor, there, to her lips, and yet she still slumbered soundly, seemingly mindless of the storm raging its way just outside.

Something like guilt crashed about his gut when she writhed, suddenly, her eyelids fluttering and a look of fear flashing across her face. "No, Lloyd," she murmured, and her tone spoke only of pain and regret, and still she was shaking her head, slowly, her entire frame quivering. "No! You don't have to! This isn't -- "

"Colette," he said, softly, closing his eyes for only a moment. It was still raining -- and another great clap of thunder sounded overhead, rattling the window in its frame, and she was stirring, still, shifting atop his blanket. Reaching a brightly-bandaged hand towards her, he brushed away the hair scattered atop her forehead, wondering if he should wake her. And nearly on cue her eyes slid open, and she smiled, almost drifting away again, until she sat up with a start, blinking and rubbing furiously at her eyes.

"Lloyd!" she said, moving to seize his hand, mindful of the thick bandages, her eyes wide and bright. "I'm so glad you're awake -- oh, I was so worried! We should have been there, all of us, and I was so scared we were going to be too late -- "

"Hey," he said, softly, cutting in. "It's okay." And he hated the words the moment they left his mouth -- simply because it _wasn't_ okay, not by any stretch of the means, though Colette seemed to understand regardless. He wanted to ask, maybe, about Chocolat, or Sheena, or the townspeople -- anything, really, to keep him from wandering too deeply into his own thoughts, to keep him from thinking too deeply into what happened, but no words came to mind, and he could only settle back with a sigh, watching her through lidded eyes. "Nice weather," he managed, at last, and almost smiled as a burst of thunder rolled somewhere overhead.

Colette frowned, at least momentarily. "I hate storms. They always frighten the children."

Lloyd took note of the reflective glint to her eyes. "How's teaching going?" he asked, not feigning any great interest, though immensely relieved at the opportunity for small talk.

"Great!" Colette said, with a warm smile, and for the first time Lloyd noticed the ink smudge brushed across her chin. "Oh, I haven't seen any of my students in so long. Do you think they miss me? I think I can understand why Raine was so dedicated to her job, you know."

"A bit _too_ dedicated, if you ask me."

"Hush, Lloyd," Colette said, taking his indignant look in stride. "It's been hard to tell them the truth about Cruxis and everything -- some don't believe it. And the parents aren't helping." Something similar to disappointment flittered across her face. "Even as Chosen I never realized just how heavily people rely on the old stories; some of my kids still don't believe me, even now, when I try so hard to show them the truth."

"The truth," Lloyd echoed, letting the word fall short beneath the rhythm of the rain along the window. Eventually he looked to her, flexing the stiff fingers still clutched in her hand, wincing in the pain that ran along his skin. She was a strange shade of gray in the sporadic light; on occasion, when the lightning touched just outside the glass, her eyes would be bright and blue, shining in the fleeting brilliance -- and then, when the room fell back to darkness, they were only black, such that he could scarce see his own reflection. "Tell me something, Colette," he said, only just noticing how very strange his voice rang against the distant wind. "Have I changed?"

She said nothing for a long while, only watching him with a blank sort of speculation, and then at last shook her head, closing her eyes for just a moment. "No," she said, though the word was soft and weak. "You'll always be Lloyd to me."

"Not at all?" Lloyd persisted, pulling his hand back, feeling a remote tremble of anger. "Tell me the truth," he said, still staring at her, half-afraid of the answer. He knew this was strange, that no good could came of asking, but he had to know, he had to be sure --

"No!" Colette said, more fiercely this time, and in the ensuing flash of lightning he could see a quirk of something -- confusion? -- written into her brow. "You're still Lloyd!" Seeking out his hand once more, she brought to her own, holding it gently, her murmur almost lost to his ears. "Why are you doing this?"

Lloyd let loose a heavy sigh and leaned back, sinking further into the cushions, shutting his eyes and, at least for the second, not bothering to ponder any great answer. He knew there were no words for his fear; no simple line could ever hope to tell just why he had pressed her, just why he was starting to lose that fragile faith in his own conceptions of right and wrong. "How's Chocolat?" he asked, instead, eyes still shut, listening only to her breathing and the rhythm of the storm.

That familiar warm weight settled atop his stomach, again, and he cracked open an eye to find her staring back at him, her brow furrowed and a deeply thoughtful look set into her frown. "She'll be okay, I think."

"Well, that's good," Lloyd said, not feeling anything at least vaguely similar to relief, not yet, at least. _What else?_

"Raine's not sure if she'll ever be able to walk again."

_There we go_. Lloyd said nothing, initially, only letting loose a breath he wasn't even aware he had held, his mind falling to the twin swords sitting innocently atop a table nearby. The edges were clean, at last -- but still he could feel with a frightening alarm that sick satisfaction in tearing the thick muscle in two, and still he could see how darkly the swords had shone in the fading sun. _Chocolat -- crippled?_ He liked to think it was surreal; it seemed so odd, beneath the blanket and the warmth, listening to the thunder and the cold, that there could be that brown-haired girl not a few rooms over, that yellow dress splashed about with red, and still the fault was his -- there was no one that could take this blame, no one to shoulder his regret, and, for that matter, she had nearly died, too, torn between his blades.

"Raine did her best -- but magic can't cure _everything_, I guess."

No, Lloyd thought, somewhat brokenly, _it can't. Or I'd still have Dad._ His throat burned -- and he opened his eyes, meeting her own, blinking in unshed tears. "It's my fault, isn't it?" he asked, not really caring for the answer, not even sure why he was asking.

Colette merely looked at him, not answering, at first, her arms still serving as a makeshift pillow atop his blanket. "I used to think," she began, slowly, "back when I still Chosen, that it was my fault that Sylvarant suffered. Not much of a Chosen, huh? I couldn't give myself up for everyone -- for the good of everyone in our world. But you taught me, Lloyd, that feeling sorry for yourself didn't matter. You taught me that the only important thing was what you did to make up for it, because, in the end, that's all that everyone will remember."

His voice was hoarse. "What if you can't forget?" _What if you don't deserve to?_

"Then don't," Colette said, still looking only at him. "That's easy enough, right?"

Lloyd nodded, slowly, knowing she was right -- it was a simple thing, really, something he had always known, from that moment he had been exiled from Iselia and vowed to do everything possible in his power to make amends. And almost instinctively his gaze slid back to the window, where the rain was still draped in great sheets across the village, and that surge of guilt came running back -- _Did I ever do it? Did I ever make amends?_

So much had happened, yes, and so much had fallen, and amidst it all Lloyd could not help but wonder what would have occurred if he had never come back, if he had stayed away, had kept on with the Exspheres -- and already that time seemed so very long ago, years, maybe, when he had been alone on the road. It seemed such a distant thing, so small, so unimportant, finding all of those spheres, saving those souls, given all that had come to pass, given all of those dark days that had already slipped away -- and then he was torn abruptly from his thoughts when Colette shifted, lifting herself up and standing straight, stretching, before moving a bit closer.

"Colette, what -- " he began, and fell abruptly silent when she bent to place a light kiss on his cheek; he was fairly certain a roaring blush had escaped across his skin.

Colette stepped back, showing a bright smile. "Don't worry about it, Lloyd," she said, all innocent and happy, and then she moved to the door, stopping just at the doorframe. "Get better, okay?"

Lloyd snapped free of his stupor for just a moment. "W-wait!" he said, louder than he had intended, and when she turned and everything was silent he realized that he had absolutely no idea what to say. "Uh," he began, thinking quickly, seizing at once the first idea to crawl to mind. "How's Sheena?"

And there, again -- the rain danced and the lightning cracked, once, and then left the room altogether, submerging it in darkness, and suddenly Colette's eyes were blank in the newfound shadows. "She's fine," she said, and left the room, then, without a backward glance.

"Oh," Lloyd said, to the empty doorway. He was alone, again, all at once remarkably confused, not having the slightest idea as to what had just happened. _She kissed me?_ Yes -- that much was obvious, given the way his cheeks still burned and an altogether strange tingling had draped itself about the spot. Lloyd realized, somewhat belatedly, that his understanding of girls in general had managed to slip yet another notch; he had certainly never prided himself on knowing how to act around the opposite sex, no matter how long he had been around Zelos, and yet the idea of asking the Idiot Chosen was simultaneously embarrassing and terrifying, given that he didn't quite have the faintest clue of what to ask about anyways.

And I made her mad. Also quite obvious, given the way she had only just shied from storming out of the room. Lloyd wondered, briefly, if perhaps there was some grand overall picture he was completely missing, some blazingly obvious answer as to why his friend had managed to confuse and worry him with only the sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway. _Maybe she's mad at Sheena_, he mused, though it was rather unlikely, given that Colette seemed perfectly incapable of holding a grudge against anyone, utterly evil tyrants being the sole exception. _Maybe she thinks Sheena and me are -- no, no, not likely. Because then that would mean she's jealous, and there's nothing to be jealous of, right? Sheena and me? Preposterous_!

And, with that matter effectively settled, he turned his attention instead towards the window, hoping against all odds that he might perchance be able to focus on something a bit less terrifying -- the weather, for example, in this case the gentle cadence of the raindrops across the glass.

Preposterous?

"Damn," he muttered, sinking his head into his hands. He realized, feeling quite depressed, that he had only just managed to confuse himself even further, and moved to stand with a sigh, opting for a walk to clear his mind rather than trying in vain to catch even a glimpse of sleep.

A quick glance told him that he was at least halfway-decent, given that the pearly-white bandages wrapped about his torso more than made up for the lack of a shirt, and so, at least partially satisfied with his appearance, he stumbled slowly for the door, finding his muscles rather sore and unwilling to move, though that was due in part to the thoroughly annoying wrappings wound restrictedly against his skin. He hoped Raine was still up and about; she'd often professed to be a bit of a night owl, finding it an excellent time to study, and, with that in mind, he turned towards the library, thinking it the most logical location for her to lurk.

He found the room entirely undisturbed, with only the curling remnants of a black ash in the fireplace, and with a frown he fumbled his way back to the hallway, his footsteps guided only by that occasional clash of lightning in the distance. He was nearly tempted to unwind the bandages on his own accord, finding them rather stuffy, though he could imagine quite well that Raine would not be entirely happy with such a bold maneuver, and so instead he set back on the path to his room, stopping to peer at a nearby clock in the trailing light.

The hour hand told that midnight had long since come and gone -- and Lloyd realized, with a bit of a shock, that he had unwittingly slept the entire day away, likely within the plush confines of his couch. With a sigh he instead turned towards the kitchens, feeling his way forward with a bandaged hand outstretched into the darkness, knowing in full that he was far too awake to sleep and, somewhat unexpectedly, far too hungry to do much of anything else.

Gradually, he made it to the door, pushing it open with a wince -- fully _not_ expecting to see a familiar face still up and about, in this instance sitting at the table with a bowl and spoon. "Genis?" he asked, somewhat needlessly, as even in the darkness the half-elf's hair shone with a broken luster.

The younger boy swiveled, looking guilty for all of a second before visibly relaxing. "Oh, Lloyd. I thought you were Raine." He waved his spoon in a half-hearted greeting. "What are you still doing up?"

Lloyd shrugged and moved to plop himself down at the side of the table across from his friend. "Not sleepy," he admitted, leaning forward a bit to peek at the bowl and instantly regretting it as the skin across his chest burned with a thick fire. "What are you eating?" he managed, blinking away the pain.

Genis glanced down at the food in question. "I'm not sure. It's Colette's, I think -- some cream thing." He scooted the bowl forth a bit. "It's pretty good. Want to try some?"

"I'll pass, thanks," Lloyd said, settling back into his chair, fully intent on swiping a bite when the half-elf relinquished his hold upon the bowl. "Why aren't you in bed?" he asked, curiously, knowing the younger boy to be a notoriously deep sleeper.

"Not sleepy," Genis said, lightly, stifling a yawn with an admittedly exhausted grin. "Nope. Not tired at all."

Lloyd merely arched an eyebrow. "Right," he said, in a pseudo-agreement, pointing a wrapped finger towards the bandages around the boy's forehead. "That looks pretty nasty, you know."

Genis batted the finger away with his free hand. "And you sound like Raine, you know?" He set his face into an eerily accurate mockery of his sister's. "Oh, Genis," he continued, jabbing his spoon rather dangerously into the bowl, "How many times have I told you to watch out? You'll injure yourself one of these days, mark my words, and I won't be around to heal you!"

"Go easy on her," Lloyd said, softly. "She's family." _She's all you have_.

Genis simply glared. "You weren't even conscious when she was checking over you, or else you'd agree with me." The half-elf wore something like a victorious smirk. "Simple as that."

"Oh." Lloyd blinked. "That bad?" He glanced downwards with a newfound understanding of the thick bandages draped tightly across his form.

"Bad?" Genis mimicked, with only the smallest hint of sarcasm and a flourish of the spoon. "It was a nightmare! I'd repeat some of the things she said, but I'm too young to know such words, you see."

Lloyd couldn't help a small grin. "Brat."

Genis apparently chose to ignore him. "And Sheena wasn't helping," he went on, looking oh-so thoughtful, his gaze somewhere beyond the lone window, the reflection of the lightning dancing in his eyes. "No, not at all," he said, softly, and blinked, turning his gaze from the storm.

"Sheena?" Lloyd shut his eyes for but a moment against the whirl of images -- those scenes snipped from that one short moment only seconds after the monster -- no, no, _Chocolat_ -- had fallen. And that tingling had returned, the same funny feeling he'd felt from Colette, and Lloyd promptly ignored it, knowing it would not do well to confuse himself further, opting instead to entertain the brief thought that Sheena was awake, too, likely unable to sleep, though the idea slipped away when he realized that Genis was speaking.

"Yeah, she refused to leave until she knew you would be okay. Ignored Raine and everything. Scary, in a way."

"Yeah," Lloyd said, absently, having entirely ignored a majority of the younger boy's words, finding himself in something akin to deep thought. _Maybe that made Colette angry -- did she think Sheena was interfering_? It was plausible, in a way, and even so a bit silly, given that he'd only seen the two girls on the best of terms not days before.

"Lloyd? You okay?"

Lloyd glanced up, distracted, shaking his head a moment in hopes of clearing it. "Yeah. Fine," he said, finding a straight seriousness to the younger boy's eyes that was uncannily reminiscent of his sister. "I think." He realized with a muffled sigh that his own words didn't seem entirely convinced.

"You were injured pretty bad," Genis remarked, closing his own eyes for a moment, the spoon in his hands lifeless for all of that long second.

Not nearly as bad as Chocolat, Lloyd added, mentally, knowing without a doubt his friend was thinking the same thing, and appropriately feeling quite glad when the half-elf seemed just as willing to avoid the subject. "So," Lloyd began, feeling at least partially conversational, and at least entirely willing to change the topic, "whatever happened between you and Presea?"

Genis, somewhat unexpectedly, looked entirely unfazed by the question, though his normal cheeky grin faltered for only a short moment. "It wouldn't have worked out," he said, rather dejectedly, letting his spoon droop miserably into the near-empty bowl. "We're too different," he added, more to himself, seemingly burdened in all regards with a terrible wisdom beyond his years.

Lloyd frowned, knowing there was very much more to the matter, and then finding himself uncertain as to whether or not to press the issue. He felt guilty, almost, for inquiring further, and even so he could not deny that he was growing steadily more curious. "That's not the reason," he said, eventually, pausing a moment to tug at the bandages atop his chest. "Do you honestly believe that?"

"No," Genis said, simply, and looked up only then, something similar to fear lurking just in the depths of his eyes. "But I want to."

"Genis?" Lloyd asked, questioningly, not of the mind to turn away -- not when his friend was blinking away a tear with his fire fallen from his eyes. "What is it?"

"I don't want to watch her die," Genis said, quietly, dropping his gaze to the table, the spoon clattering into the empty bowl with something akin to finality. The half-elf said no more, and in the ensuing quiet Lloyd could hear only the thunder, the frolicking rain, his own shallow breathing, and there, in the distance, the young wind's games as it rushed through the trees.

Slowly, he stood, looking this way and that in the darkness, until his eyes caught sight of a carton perched conspicuously on a nearby counter. Without a word he hobbled over to it, tucking it under his arm, and turned back towards the table, setting it neatly in front of his friend as he passed. Genis simply picked up his spoon and dug in, apparently finding great interest in the tabletop, leaving Lloyd to fall back into his chair and watch in the fragile silence.

"It's the same for me," Lloyd said then, choosing his words most carefully, "and Sheena and Colette -- everyone has to leave, eventually. How is Presea any different?" The question seemed to have some effect, at least, for Genis slowed his spoon and lifted his chin, a hint of his former cheekiness written into the corners of his weak smirk.

"I like you, Lloyd, but I don't _like_ you. Do you know what I mean?"

Lloyd simply gave him a small smile, opting to forego any teasing at his friend's expense. "Yeah. I know."

"Besides," Genis said, a bit stronger this time, though still managing to look thoroughly miserable in the process, "I don't think she likes me." And, with that said, he sighed, once more the very idea of dejection.

"Can't help you there," Lloyd said, shaking his head. "I barely understand women myself." He had the distinct feeling that he never really would.

Genis momentarily halted his attack on the carton to loose a shrewd smile. "No kidding," he said, with an air of his former cockiness, though appearing strangely torn between laughter and sympathy in the scant light.

Lloyd sat a bit straighter in his chair, feeling rather offended, and, for that matter, infinitely curious as well. "H-hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it says," Genis replied, entirely too prompt. "You _are_ thick, aren't you!" he said, sighing, with a look of worldly patience. "Blind, too."

"Brat."

"Heard it before." Genis waved his spoon dismissively. "G'night, then. You might want to go to bed. Raine would murder you if she knew you weren't resting." The light of recognition passed across his face. "Hmm," he said, furrowing his brow. "My sister is a paradox."

Lloyd, knowing there was no shame in retreating, and not having the slightest clue of what a paradox even was, opted to simply stand and head rather ungracefully towards the door, stopping only when Genis called his name, the word quiet and piercing through the shadows.

"I never told why I'm still up, did I?"

Lloyd merely smiled. "I think," he said, turning his head just a bit, "that I already know."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," Lloyd said, moving to face the open door once more. "I'm sure she's thanking you, Genis. After everything we've been through, all of the trouble and pain -- you still think about her, and because of you, she won't be forgotten." He paused for just a moment to brush a hand across his eyes. "If I had to guess," he said, "I'd say Marble's proud." And he left, then, letting the door fall shut behind him, his footsteps carrying him along the dark corridor.

oOo

Morning.

Lloyd stood, hesitantly, with his hand settled lightly atop the doorknob, staring quietly at the blank wooden frame. There was one part of him, likely the brash and oblivious Lloyd of so long ago, that wanted simply to slide the door open and step inside -- not a difficult task by any means, admittedly, though he was entirely uncertain of whether or not he wanted to face her; it was too soon, perhaps, and the wounds were still much to fresh, and yet he knew this would have to happen, sooner or later, and, at least for the moment, the former of the two had brought him this far, guided him -- there! Sobbing, gently, behind the door, the same sound that had pulled him down the hall, and with a determined sigh he knocked, once, rasping his fist against the wooden frame, and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

Chocolat. She was laying there, bundled beneath the blankets, her head in her hands, wearing a ghostly pallor. In that second his resolve, his determination, caved -- again he could see her crumbled into the dirt, crying, almost torn in two beneath his blades, and, feeling almost sick, he turned away, drawing a shaky breath. Lloyd realized, much too belatedly, that he didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do, not when the pain and the guilt was tearing at his heart and the fear was threatening to carry him away.

"I'm sorry."

He stiffened, turning slowly towards her, amazed and somewhat relieved to see the hands fallen from her face and two red-rimmed eyes staring back at him. He -- he had almost killed her, had almost stolen her life away, and -- she was _apologizing_? Already, he was moving, sitting in the chair by her bed with a sigh, not even entirely aware of the words falling free from his mouth, wanting only to push his own problems aside and help ease at least some part of her burden. "No -- don't apologize," he said, his voice hoarse. "It's not important," he added, quietly, and for that short while he almost believed it.

Chocolat sat straighter, abruptly, brushing at her tears, her words coming in almost angry gasps. "Yes it is! I took him away from you, I took away your dad, you should have killed me -- "

"Stop." The word was low, almost dangerous, and Lloyd was shaking, then, shutting his eyes against the strange anger coursing along his veins. That throbbing, that dull ache to the back of his skull, had returned, and again the buzzing was nearly splitting him in two, and he realized, dimly, with a growing horror, that he had this strange urge to do it, to take her from her misery -- and it was gone, in an instant, and his eyes fell, almost inadvertently, to the small pouch at his waist, the bag that he carried even despite the bandages still shrouding his form. "How did -- how did it happen?" he asked, tiredly, forcing his eyes back to hers, putting his hands to the side so she would not see them shake.

Chocolat closed her eyes, for a moment, and sighed, seemingly gathering the fragile remnants of her strength. "I -- I was in the Iselia Human Ranch when they put the demon seed in me. I don't remember how it happened; the Desians did experiments, I know now, but afterwards I couldn't remember any of it, not until much after I was freed. I went to Ozette with my mother -- "

Lloyd blinked, an image rushing to mind, and in that instant he remembered. "I saw you in Ozette!" he said, abruptly, thinking back; she had looked so pale, even then, before taking the ferry -- _the boat to Iselia_. "You took the ferry," he said, somewhat needlessly, turning his gaze back to her.

"Yes," Chocolat said, nodding, looking all the more forlorn. "I was hoping to find Miss Raine. I'd heard she had a cure for it, some spell that could destroy the seed, but when I came to Iselia, I knew I was running out of time. The townspeople said that she was out in the woodlands, gathering herbs, so I went to look for her, and -- "

"You found Dad," Lloyd finished, thickly, letting his head fall into his hands. He wanted to believe that he could have guessed it, that he should have known all along, but it was so strange, then, and so -- so _unfair_.

"I'm sorry, Lloyd," Chocolat said, softly.

He said nothing, at first, letting his eyes fall shut, and only a few moments later, then, and only gradually, did he look back up to her, watching her in silence. She looked so very worn; the once vibrant hue to her cheeks had faded, and there was a pale luster to her eyes, and he could only imagine, briefly, what was running through her mind. He wanted to forgive her, to move on, to say he didn't blame her, but he didn't want to lie, either, and instead chose his words carefully, only hoping she would understand.

"I'm sorry about your ankles."

She smiled, gently, and at last there was a hint of the former fire to her words. "Don't sweat the small things, right?"

Lloyd sought her hand, squeezing it, and moved to stand, forgetting the tears, at least for the moment. "One thing at a time," he said, somewhat gratefully, and, with a small smile, moved slowly for the door, visibly crumbling when it fell shut behind him. He leaned against the frame with a sigh, screwing his eyes shut, and it was all he could do not to cry, not when he knew Chocolat was doing just the same inside. It was too soon to forget, too soon to heal, but -- that could come in time. She knew it, and he knew it, and, for as long as that lasted, things might just turn out somewhat well when it all came to a close.

One thing at a time.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Seravine - Chapter Seven**

**Important Note 12/2/04:**

Hullo, folks. I apologize for the three-week wait, but, as much I as I like the idea of rolling out a new chapter every week or two, the current state of affairs at school and real life has basically pushed me to the point where I have to put the story on hold until around December 15th or so. I apologize for this, but, seeing as how my teachers seemingly thought it a fan-_freaking_-tastic idea to assign a total of six projects due next week, I will have absolutely no time for anything resembling entertainment and/or sleeping for these next few weeks. Add to that the semester exams I'll have to take starting next week and the week after that, and, well, to be blunt, I simply don't have time to even really think about Seravine, and, as such, I'm afraid it'll be possibly longer than a month until chapter eight makes an appearance.

Again, my apologies for the extended wait. On the bright side, shortly after December 15th is the beginning of Christmas Break - otherwise known as two glorious weeks of freedom, and, subsequently, a great opportunity to return to the story. With that in mind, I can promise that I will do everything in my power to make chapter eight worth the inevitable weight, and long, too, for that matter. Expect some fun, ladies and gentlemen - we've only just passed the halfway point in the story and I promise what is to come is going to be a hell of a ride.

grin

See you around the 15th - here's hoping everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving!

- Matt

Author's Note: I suppose I should really have some nifty excuse here, but, after working on this chapter two days straight, you'll excuse me if I'm a bit drained. : ) My apologies for the longer-than-normal wait; if you must know, I've had an ungodly amount of homework as of lates, basically to the point where I wasn't even able to look at this and truly to write until about three days ago. So, needless to say, this chapter is a tad bit late.

On a lighter note, here's another edition of the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, entirely for your benefit!

The **Good**: Long chapter. Dialogue. Romance-ish things. (Possible) foreshadowing. Oh, and the Reunion finally occurs!

The **Bad**: Hardly any action. Hopefully you won't mind a truly dialogue-oriented chapter; I tried, admittedly, to think of some way to throw some action in there, but, for those of you who are easily bored, please make it through this. You'll enjoy the next chapters, I assure you.

The **Ugly**: This was, without a doubt, the hardest chapter to write thus far. And, naturally, I hate it, but if I went into all of the reasons why it's likely you would be rather bored. So read the chapter instead! It's equally uneventful, I suppose.

Now, for the reviews:

**Kitten Kisses** ( x 6!) - Thank you for the reviews! I'm very glad you're enjoying what you've read thus far. To answer your question concerning the couple: it was actually Genis/Presea, not Lloyd/Colette, as I've been trying to work a romance triangle into this that concerns those two characters. Apparently I need to work on it, heh. Oh well. And, regarding the characters, everyone makes an appearance this chapter, with emphasis particularly on the Idiot Chosen! Please let me know if I was able to correctly write his character; it was harder than I had intended, so I'm uncertain if I've nailed his character down just yet. Thanks again!

**jellybeanz225 **-Your idea was one I had initially considered, actually, and then eventually scrapped as it wouldn't have worked well in the plot. Good to see you liked what I used instead! My apologies for the wait; hopefully this chapter will (somehow) make up for it. Thanks again!

**FireEdge** - I'm glad you loved the ending. Hopefully you'll enjoy this one too. In regards to Richard, well, I shan't say much, as I wouldn't want to reveal too much into the plot, but, seeing as how you enjoy his scenes, I daresay you'll appreciate what is soon to come. : ) Thanks for reading!

**Avari, wind seer** - Thank you for the compliments, particularly on the romance portions. I wasn't exactly pleased with those, you see, so it really helps to read that they weren't very awful. : ) Thank you for reading.

**Im that one guy** - "I find it amazing how you manage to keep the characters so believable" Thank you! This chapter, hopefully, continues that winning streak, but please let me know if you feel I'm a bit off when it comes to the characters. As for the connection my SN has to the story...well, I wish I had thought of that. I've been using ObsidianIdeals for quite some time now, far before I had even begun to plan Seravine, so while the connections you noticed certainly weren't intentional, they are a tad creepy. : ) And, yes, you are completely nuts. Congratulations! I cracked long, long ago. : )

That's about it, I believe. A word of warning regarding romance (hopefully I won't have to keep saying this): one couple in the triangle is emphasized quite a bit in this chapter, but, as always there is still quite a bit in the plot to go, so if you're dead-set on one pairing rather than the other, try not to have your hopes lifted/destroyed.

Oh, and one more thing. I've been contemplating lowering this to a PG-13 rating, given that I've been told it hasn't quite earned its 'R' rating just yet. Any opinions on this? The story will, eventually, take a much darker tone, enough that I would think the 'R' would be justified, but, until then, any comments on whether I should lower it would be very much appreciated.

And, as always, please review!

Thanks for reading!

oOo

He wondered how long it would last.

They were all laughing, and talking, _smiling_, even, and it was little more than some grand facade, really, some magnificent charade, the sort of game for those long mornings with only the memories and the rain. There was a time -- was it really so long ago? -- when Lloyd would have joined them, would have been amidst it all, would have been arguing with Genis or maybe making sly comments about Raine's cooking, so bright, so content, and so easily taking it all for granted.

A meeting, Raine had said.

Lloyd wasn't much in the mood for talking.

He was very much regretting his lack of sleep; something akin to a headache was rolling and roaring about his skull, something akin to that ever-familiar buzzing tearing along the edge of his mind, and those damnable bandages still remained, wound ever-so tightly across his chest.It would be another day or two, apparently, before they could be safely removed, and Lloyd had decided, grumpily,that that was quite possibly the least inspiring thing Raine had ever said. And even now they were entirely a nuisance, cutting into his skin -- andeverything was loud, much too loud, and Lloyd brought his hands to his forehead, settling his elbows lightly atop the desk, closing his eyes and trying his very best to simply drown it all out. He could see, from the very corner of his eyes, that they were watching.

He couldn't help but wonder what they expected. So much had happened -- and he was so damn _tired_ of it all, so unbelievably exhausted of this whole affair, and, naturally, there was absolutely no way to say it, no way to tell the lot of them that he wanted only a few moments to smile, maybe, a few minutes to cry, just one chance to sit back and take it all in. _Imagine that_, Lloyd thought, somewhat wryly, not bothering to hide his smirk. _Lloyd Irving taking the time to think things through_. And it was entirely true; he had so many questions, now, so many hows and whos and _why_, and there was that nagging thought, too, that maybe if he had only stopped to think, had only paused at least one long moment to pay attention, so much pain and so much suffering might have been averted.

And it was already too late. That was, perhaps, the worst part about it, the simple truth to the matter that it was much too late for these doubts, much too late for these questions, and all he could do now was remember, maybe even forget, and, when it all came to a close, and when everything was said and done, regret.

"Lloyd?"

Shaken, he lifted his head free of his hands, finding his companions -- his _friends_ -- watching in a plain silence. They were all there, all but one, sitting so primly and so ridiculously behind the low-slung desks, each looking remarkably out of place and somehow very much at ease. "I'm fine," Lloyd said, quietly, gazing at them in turn, almost perturbed at how easily the lie came to his lips.

"You look tired," Regal said, somewhat needlessly, still managing to look entirely majestic behind the cramped wooden desk, his legs stretched primly and quite properly out into the row. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his arms settled lightly against his chest, something like concern playing at the corners of his eyes.

"I'm fine," Lloyd said, again, knowing that not a single one of them believed him, refusing to acknowledge the shrewd touch to the professor's smile. He supposed he should have felt indignant, really, maybe even angry at the disbelief so clearly written across their faces, but, with a sigh, he dropped his gaze back to the table, feeling much too tired to even bother. "Why are we waiting?" he asked, hoping to break the thick silence that crept up behind his words.

"Zelos has yet to grace us with his presence," Raine said, briskly, settling her spectacles high atop her nose and turning with a look of mild indignation towards door. "It would seem some people never change," she added, almost irritably, leaning with a sigh against the teacher's podium she had so instinctively moved to stand behind. It made sense, in a thoroughly frightening way; Raine, the undisputed and self-appointed leader for the meeting, was clearly in her element, slipping easily into her infamous passion for teaching.

"Oh, Zelos has changed," Sheena said, lightly, sitting completely atop her desk in a distinctively Sheena way, her legs crossed and a familiar smirk tugging at her lips. "Grown up, on the other hand...." She let the words trail to silence, sighing, and then leaned back with a grin, using a row of her cards as a fan. Lloyd caught her eye and couldn't help but smile, very much pleased to see her looking hardly worse for wear after the previous day's events.

He'd made it a point to look precisely everywhere but the window; a certain fog had fallen thickly in and around Iselia, crowding around each building in turn, almost but not quite stealing the destruction from view. There was hardly a hopeful word for it all -- again, Iselia was destroyed, and again, it would have to be rebuilt, though Lloyd could not help but wonder how long this would go on, how long this strange cycle would continue, when it forever seemed that at this turn and that the fire again would only come rolling forth, bringing to the town once more to ashes.

"Oh, be nice," Colette said, frowning, from her perch on a nearby desk, still managing to look and happy and relatively displeased at the same time. "Mr. Zelos told me this morning -- "

"_Where's the thief?_"

All at once an uncomfortable silence fell across the room; Lloyd, now at least partially interested, glanced towards the doorway, fully expecting and still somewhat surprised to see a thoroughly miffed Zelos, hands on hips, at the entrance to the classroom. The Chosen, the very picture of displeased, was wearing his grandest imitation of a glare, drawing his eyes slowly across the room, settling at last on Genis, the younger boy, for his part, wearing an expression of utmost innocence.

"Who ate it?" Zelos asked, quite emphatically, settling his arms atop his chest and tapping a foot with manifest impatience. He looked a delicate mix between anger and indignation, dramatic in every sense of the word, and Lloyd was torn between quiet laughter and curiosity, eventually deciding the latter of the two to be at least marginally safer.

"Ate what?" he asked, blinking, not in the least bit bothered by the exasperated look that settled cleanly across the other man's face.

"My ice cream! The entire carton -- gone!" Zelos said the last word with an almost entertaining sort of despair, matched only by an equally entertaining gesture, wearing a sense of such grand tragedy and seeming for all the world completely serious in his trauma. Slowly, he stepped from the doorway, moving with a hunter's grace, giving the collected group a shrewd glare as he gradually circled around to an empty desk. Still looking entirely displeased, he settled onto the seat with ease, propping his feet up and seeming to be entirely oblivious to the danger lurking in Raine's eyes.

Lloyd turned his head, a bit, forcing himself not to laugh, thoroughly sympathetic and yet thoroughly entertained by the classic petrified look that had settled across Genis's face. The younger boy was nearly squirming, his eyes darting this way and that, looking for that one moment like just a kid again -- and then Lloyd felt that familiar circle of guilt cross his mind, taking a tight grip to his heart, tearing the chuckles entirely from his throat. When -- when had Genis changed? When had he lost that last grasp of his childhood, that last day of the laughter and the sun, taking such burden and such shame on his small -- _young_ -- shoulders?

_When did _I_ change?_

Genis and Sheena and Colette and -- they were all so very young, and, then again, so very old, with their scars and their smiles and the thought that maybe this would end someday, that maybe there _was_ such a thing called peace, so fragile, so lost, and, maybe, their only hope, just beyond their reach.

What can I do?

It seemed such an important thing, such a powerful question to ask, and all at once Lloyd felt so terrible and so free; there was a certain liberty to the question, a certain sense of recognition, perhaps that nagging idea that this really wasn't anything new, that maybe he could recognize it, if only he took a moment to look. He had asked that question, once before, with the answer so open and so clear, and again he brought the words to his lips, letting them linger just on the tip of his tongue. Perhaps it was too soon -- he needed time, yes, time to puzzle it all out, time to think about Dad and Kratos and Chocolat and _everything_, and slowly, he blinked, rubbing at his eyes, brushing almost fiercely at the lone tear that was threatening to fall.

It had been so long since he had cried, so long since had even let himself think of it -- and a warm picture floated to the front of his mind, the sensation of kneeling in her arms beneath the midnight sky, crying, once, perhaps for the last time, simply letting it all go the only way he knew. Lloyd glanced up, slowly, shaking free of his thoughts, and was genuinely surprised to see Sheena looking directly at him, her eyes bright and questioning. He simply smiled, shaking his head, and, on a whim, placed a hand over his heart, mouthing the words that sprung easily to his lips.

Our little secret.

Her eyes widened and she blushed, the corners of her mouth turning up into a small grin, and Lloyd turned away with his own smile, feeling a certain lightness to his thoughts and something resembling satisfaction lifting -- for at least one long moment -- that burden from his shoulders.

"_Enough!_" Raine's voice cut sharply across the classroom, throwing the group to silence, and Lloyd turned to see the Professor descend slowly from behind the podium, moving to stand in the very center of the circle of desks, wearing an expression of cold exasperation. "Zelos, Genis -- save your argument for another time. There are more important matters we must discuss."

Zelos, though looking visibly affronted, recovered remarkably quickly. "Ah, but Raine, my cool beauty -- surely you agree that the brat should keep his fat fingers to himself?" And, with a victorious smirk, the Chosen settled back into his chair, feet still propped jauntily atop a nearby desk.

"That's not fair! Come on, Sis, how was I supposed to know it was his?" Genis, on the contrary, appeared quite angry, the first tendrils of magic twirling and twisting around his fingertips. He sat down only upon receiving one of Raine's trademark glares, sinking into his seat with a sigh, murmuring beneath his breath and drumming his fingers with an almost violent cadence atop the wood.

Regal, looking torn between exasperation and amusement, merely arched an eyebrow, turning to his side. "And what do you think, Presea?" he asked, for the young girl looked deep in concentration, a certain terseness to the normally placid look set along her face.

"I believe," Presea said, slowly, thoughtfully, lifting her eyes from the floor, "that men lack common sense." And, that said, she nodded, seemingly content with her decision, settling into her chair with the hint of that rare Presea smile tugging at her lips.

Zelos winced. "Harsh, Presea," he said, bringing a hand to his heart and adopting an injured expression. "You wound me."

Genis, rather surprisingly, nodded in complete agreement. "That hurts," he said, with an indignant emphasis, though still with the twinge of a blush across his cheeks as Presea turned in his direction. "It's mainly just Zelos," he added, helpfully, perhaps recognizing his greatest mistake in actually agreeing with what the Idiot Chosen had said.

"No harm in telling the truth, boys," Sheena said, brightly, wearing a smug grin that gave perfectly the appearance of being entirely much too honest. "So what do we need to talk about, Raine?" she asked, turning towards the professor, the woman in question having taken to rubbing at her temples with what appeared to be a mounting despair.

"Thank you, Sheena," Raine said, the familiar combination of exhaustion and exasperation reflected quite well in her voice. "We need to discuss Iselia." Slowly, her hands fell, and she let her eyes travel the length of the room, settling at last on Lloyd, who sighed, guessing exactly what was coming. "As I'm sure most of you have noticed, a good portion of it has been destroyed."

"Oh, Professor," Colette said, somewhat abruptly, turning from the window. "Has the meeting started?" She blinked and looked pleasantly about, smiling, apparently having heard absolutely nothing of what had just been said. "I was just thinking -- "

" -- about me? Oh, Colette!" And, for one long and thoroughly disturbing moment, something akin to hearts could be seen shining oh-so brightly in Zelos's eyes.

Lloyd could only sigh. "Something tells me we should have started _before_ he got here." And, ignoring the indignant look that flashed across Zelos's face, he leaned back into his chair and crossed his arms, focusing his attention, at least for the moment, on Raine. "Iselia needs to be rebuilt," he continued, not even bothering to gesture towards the window, where the fog still leapt and curled around the rubble. "We need to figure out who'll do it. Oh, and who'll pay for it, too."

Raine looked rather impressed. "Yes, that's true, Lloyd. I'm glad to see you're thinking ahead, for once."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Lloyd said, dryly, not exactly keen on where he knew the conversation would eventually turn, and, appropriately, somewhat bent on avoiding the subject for as long as possible. "I'm not sure about you guys, but I still have a lot of Gald left. I could help pay for it."

Regal shook his head. "The Lezareno Company would be more than willing to sponsor the construction. There should be no need for you to empty your pockets, Lloyd," he said, kindly. "And workers can be hired with ease."

"That's nice and all," Genis cut in, frowning, "but shouldn't we ask the villagers? I mean, maybe they don't even want to live here anymore, after -- " he fell quiet, then, his eyes falling to the floor, and gradually he sighed, the sound of it soon fading to a lone silence.

"How is she?" Colette asked, somewhat abruptly, and Lloyd turned to see that strange hint of sadness to his friend's eyes, the once vibrant smile now twisted with sorrow. "Can she -- no, when will she able to walk again?" Colette looked uncharacteristically pessimistic with the question.

"I don't know," Raine said, quietly, her usual disapproving expression temporarily relaxed. "All we can do is wait, I suppose." The professor glanced up, then, and Lloyd met her eyes, knowing she was requesting, silently, that he ask the question, that he bring to words the thought that had taken to lurking around the girl's very name.

Lloyd sighed, letting his eyes fall shut for that one moment, trying his best not to slip too deeply into his guilt. "Is Chocolat safe here?" It was a simple question, really, and still he hated asking it, already having a decent idea as to the answer.

"She won't transform again, will she?" Sheena asked, her brow furrowed, staring intently towards Raine. "You cured her, didn't you?"

Raine simply nodded. "Yes, she is cured. Chocolat no longer poses a danger to anyone here." She turned, then, towards Genis, who had sunk his head into his hands, looking unusually depressed. "Genis?" she asked, quietly, though the affection was still quite clear behind the words.

The half-elf said nothing, at first, still staring intently at the desktop, and Lloyd knew instinctively what his friend was seeing, what pain his friend was reliving through the memories playing across his mind. "The villagers," Genis said, softly, still refusing to raise his head. "They won't want her here, will they?"

"The probability is low," Presea remarked, looking for all the world as calm and collected as only she could be, though there was a certain sadness to the way her words hung long and alone upon the air.

"Oh," Sheena said, softly, understanding, perhaps, for only the first time. She frowned, thoughtfully, taking a card and playing it easily between her fingers, only gradually seeming to come to a decision. "Where can she go? Mizuho would take her in, if need be."

Regal, who had taken to rubbing gently at thepale flesh of his wrists, turned towards Raine and shook his head. "I would think Ozette would be the best place for her. It's likely her mother would want to see her."

"That's probably the best option," Raine agreed, moving to settle herself back behind her podium. "Though I do not know how her mother would react upon hearing the story. I assume Chocolat did not tell anyone of her condition." She said the last word softly, and, for one long second, her eyes were so very far away, seeing, perhaps, only a memory, some quaint recollection that set her lips to a cold thin line.

Zelos, who had remained remarkably quiet to that point, spoke first, slouching a bit in his char. "Maybe we should let Chocolat decide, you know, instead of planning it all out for her." He glanced at each member of the group in turn, silently, and, with no flagrant opposition nor volunteers for the idea, shrugged and made to stand. "I guess I could ask."

Colette stood first, shaking her head, and, for that one moment, blocked the one view of the window, cutting Iselia from view. "I'll do it! I've been wanting to talk to her, actually." And, that said, she moved for the door, stepping around the desks with a strange gracefulness and slipping out of the room with nary a sound.

"That was...strange," Presea said, plainly, though still looking entirely unfazed, rather as if Colette's sudden departure was nothing but ordinary.

Lloyd had to nod his own agreement, sinking even further into his chair, finding himself once more entirely confused. He supposed she was still indeed a bit miffed after last night, likely for the reasons he still didn't quite know, and he was almost tempted to go after her until Zelos spoke once again, a rare look seriousness settled onto his face.

"Someone's going to have to take her to wherever she wants to go. If she's heading for Ozette, that's easy, since we have the ferry, though we can't let her go alone." Zelos shot a not-so subtle look towards Regal. "Any volunteers?"

"I suppose I'd be the best for the job," Regal said, lightly, "particularly if she decides on Ozette. Will anyone be joining me?" The question simply lingered, tossed this way and that upon the air, andRegal only looked down to the white skin in and around his wrists, something of a brief smile flickering across his lips.

Lloyd glanced to and fro across the group in the resulting silence. He was fairly certain he would not be attending; the idea of having to explain Chocolat's injuries to her mother was a bit terrifying, given his involvement in the matter, and the very thought of it struck much too closely to that time, so long ago, with Marble, that time with a singular guilt he had still not quite managed to push away.

"I'll go," Presea said, standing and moving, somewhat hesitantly, towards Regal's desk. "I would like to see Ozette again." She showed a small smile, a true, genuine Presea smile, meeting Regal's eyes, and Lloyd was struck rather suddenly with the strange fire to the older man's relieved grin. _It looks like she really forgave him._ He couldn't help but smile; it was such a nice thought, really, that the past could be forgotten, and, perhaps, even accepted -- _maybe there's hope after all._

Genis, too, seemingly on a whim, stood and moved to stand near Regal's desk. "I -- I'm going too." He turned to Lloyd for a moment, flashing a jaunty grin, and then nodded, seemingly pleased with his decision. "There's something I need to do," he said, a tad mysteriously, though his chin was set and he glanced almost defiantly towards his sister, perhaps expecting some form of opposition.

Raine, unexpectedly, only smiled. "You won't be leaving too soon, Genis. Chocolat needs at least a few more days to rest." And, with that matter settled, and Genis admittedly subdued, she turned back towards Zelos, who had begun to wear an inexplicably depressing look. "Zelos? What's wrong?"

The Chosen in question pitched a heavy sigh. "Does this mean I have to help rebuild?"

Lloyd did not need to look to see Sheena roll her eyes. "Something tells me you've never done a decent day of work in your life," she said, not-so pleasantly, crossing her arms and adopting her classic disapproving stance. "Look at Lloyd! He's not complaining."

Lloyd quickly moved to protest, noting the challenging look that flared to Zelos's eyes, but it was Raine who spoke first, her words forestalling any argument and, in Lloyd's opinion, changing the subject entirely for the worst. "Actually, Lloyd, I was wondering if you would allow me to see that jewel of yours."

All at once a thick silence draped itself about the classroom; sighing, Lloyd lifted the bag free from his waist, regretting, for once, that he had opted to tuck it into his belt. With hardly a word he tossed it towards Raine, watching as she caught it deftly in one hand and dumped its contents into her palm.

There was that buzzing again -- the tenuous roar springing to life the moment the jewel fell free, the thing sitting so black against the pale skin of her hand. It looked plain, there, almost nondescript in every way, but Raine lifted it easily between two fingers, holding it towards the window, and through the light Lloyd could see quite clearly the dancing fire frolicking just beneath the surface of the gem. Determined, he kept his hands balled tightly at his sides, wincing at the pain along his skull and yet refusing to give in to the touch of nausea that swept so freely around his stomach.

It was a bit different this time; there was the roaring, yes, and the buzzing and the rolling and the pain, but there was a strange screaming, too, high and piercing, and Lloyd thought he could almost hear words, then, some odd and fragile distinction to the noise. He had the feeling that he should have known it, whatever it was, maybe even recognize it, but he could hardly make any sense of it, could hardly grasp the few words tossed about in the midst of the chaos.

"What's that, Lloyd?" Genis asked, curiously, edging closer to his sister, the puzzlement drawn easily atop his face. "Is that yours?" He reached for it, bringing one hand closer to the black, almost pouting when Raine swept her hand away and gave him a pointed look to said quite plainly to sit down.

Lloyd bit tightly at his lip, lowering his face towards the floor, struggling to push away the mounting pain that had settled just at the very front of his mind. "Yeah," he managed, determinedly looking everywhere but the jewel, which had seemed to grow even darker since he had last laid eyes upon it. "Found it."

"Where?" Raine asked, quietly, from somewhere up above, and Lloyd lifted his eyes only a bit to see her still holding the jewel up towards the window, where the mists forever writhed just outside the glass. "It appears to be anything but an ordinary stone," she said, thoughtfully, again with a look of naked curiosity.

"Gaoracchia," Lloyd said, tersely, moving at last to drop his head into his hands, catching one last look at his friends -- and instantly regretting the word as soon as he saw a look of hurt flitter briefly across Sheena's face. He hadn't told her, then, so very long ago, when he had escaped the storm, and Lloyd nearly groaned aloud, knowing it was yet another mistake he would have to tackle when it all came to a close.

"Ga -- _Gaoracchia?_" Zelos, seemingly recovered from his depression, bolted upright in his chair, turning his eyes away from the gem. "You've heard the story, right? About the thief and the jewel and the forest and -- "

"Yes," Raine said, smoothly, not looking at all perturbed by the picture of fright that had settled cleanly upon the Chosen's face. "You told us of it once, Zelos, and I still think it little more than a legend." She brought the jewel closer to her eye, inspecting it carefully. "And I doubt this is worth nearly as much Gald as it would need to be."

Zelos, for his part, appeared hardly convinced in the face of her cool logic. "But Raine, just because it's a legend, you know, doesn't make it _not_ true." He shrugged quite gamely. "Yeah, some parts of it may be off, but a lot of people believe in it. How else would Gaoracchia be so -- " here, he shuddered, " -- ugly?"

"He has a point," Sheena said, with obvious reluctance. "There's always the chance, I guess." She seemed intent on completely ignoring the bright grins Zelos sent her way.

Genis gave a mighty shrug. "But what's the point, anyway? It's just a jewel -- nothing more, nothing less, right?" He glanced towards Lloyd, an eyebrow arched, perhaps expecting such a simple answer, though, for awhile, there was only silence.

Lloyd, head still in his hands, did not move to look up. "There's something about it," he said, at last, hardly aware of the dark silence, mindful only of the roaring piercing across his skull. "Something strange. It helped me, yesterday, during the -- " he trailed off, somewhat lamely, unsure if he wanted to continue. He had never really thought of it, until now, of how the jewel had lifted him to his feet and given him such a strange strength; there was something special about the thing, obviously, maybe something he should have guessed, though, if he was to be completely honest with himself, he had the feeling that it was a bit late for questions.

Presea spoke, suddenly, her soft voice carrying easily through his thoughts. "Lloyd?"

It was so odd -- there was a certain inflection to her a voice, a concern he had only rarely heard, and Lloyd was entirely unsure, again, of what they expected, of what he was supposed to say. He wanted to tell them everything; he had never been the type to keep things inside, really, to wear his heart anywhere _but_ his sleeve, but there was this strange feeling, somehow, someway, that said, quite simply, that he should wait, should hold his tongue for at least a little longer.

And there was that one thought, too, that he knew he could never tell anyone, not even those he held so close. He felt so alone; that was the only word for it, and a terrible one at that, but it said everything and more of how he was feeling, of how he was losing at last that warm picture he had always kept close to his heart. It was no great thing, this one simple image in his mind, a glimpse of his friends, his family, and the laughter, and it was fading, now -- he knew they would always be there, he knew they would always be with him, but he had to wonder, at times, if he would always be there for them, if he would be able to return the favor. _Where are you, Kratos?_ There was a painful clench around his heart._I need you, dad._

"The Storyteller," Regal said, quietly, and Lloyd pushed aside his worries, that buzzing and that fear, to glance upwards and try to pay attention. "He knows quite a bit of the history of the world; perhaps he would know something of this jewel?"

Sheena nodded. "That's a good idea. And we could always ask Mizuho, too." She glanced toward Lloyd, something akin to concern set deep into her eyes. "What do you think, Lloyd?"

Lloyd gave her a tired smile. "I think," he said, blinking as the buzzing kicked up in volume, "that the Storyteller would be our best bet." And quite suddenly the roaring was fading, the nausea all at once dwindling to nothing, and he sighed, heavily, feeling incredibly drained and incredibly relieved. Curious, he looked towards Raine -- and found that shrewd touch to her smile once again, that knowing look as she closed the small bag, tucking the gem out of sight, and tossed it towards him.

"We'll leave in three days," Raine said, decisively, sweeping her gaze across the classroom. "Regal, Genis, Presea -- you'll take Chocolat wherever she wishes to go. The rest of us shall head for the Latheon Gorge." She gave a distinct frown. "And climb the mountain once again."

"Oh, hell," Zelos said, miserably, dropping his head to the desk. "Why didn't we just keep the Rheiards?" And, apparently not waiting for answer, he went on, waving his hands quite expressively above his head. "Renegades piss me off, you know? Why'd they even want them back?"

Regal merely chuckled. "Walking is fine exercise, I'll have you know. It strengthens the body and mind."

Genis had a thoroughly evil grin. "That explains a few things."

"Brat," Zelos muttered, somewhat indistinctly, his head still perched heavily against the desk.

The classroom door opened, somewhat abruptly, and Colette stepped into the room, looking very chipper. "Ozette it is," she said brightly, clapping her hands together, a classic Colette gesture in every sense of the word. "She's very excited." The inevitable question came much too soon. "What did I miss?'

Lloyd hooked a thumb in Raine's direction and sighed, slouching back in his chair, closing his eyes, intent on relaxing at least for the moment.

"You tell her, Raine."

oOo

Laying in the grass, Lloyd had decided, was really a wonderful thing; he could scarce remember the last time he'd been able to just fling himself down and relax, letting the touch of green wrap itself around his skin, and, if he was lucky, watch the stars stretched out into the horizon. And that was _exactly_ what he needed, what he had been looking forward to the entire day, the one opportunity to push it all away and think about everything and nothing in particular.

It wouldn't be long, he knew, before he would have to sit up, dust himself off, and head back inside, likely to scrounge about for as much sleep as he could manage in the waning midnight. And that was okay; for this one moment, for these few hours he had for himself, there was only the grass and the moon and the stars and, when he closed his eyes and simply listened, the wind amongst the trees.

"Hey."

Lloyd leaned his head back a bit and grinned. "Hello."

Sheena was there, standing a bit to his side, looking shy and pale and curious, scuffing her feet against the grass. "What are you doing?" she asked, softly.

He simply shrugged. "Not much, I guess," he said, lightly, and on a whim moved to pat the grass beside him. "Take a seat. I don't mind the company." He was, somehow, in an extraordinarily good mood, and, for at least the moment, he really didn't give a damn as to why.

"I don't want to bother you," Sheena said, hesitantly, averting her eyes a bit. But, as Lloyd merely arched an eyebrow and patted the earth once again, she gave him a small grin, rolling her eyes. "Fine. You win."

"Much better," Lloyd said, brightly, as she moved to lay beside him, mimicking his own posture and laying her arms behind her head. He was trying in vain to ignore the fact that their elbows were touching when a few words sprung almost unexpectedly to his lips. "I'm sorry." He waited, momentarily, for a response, turning to face her. "About Gaoracchia," he added, quietly, feeling a bit foolish.

"It's okay," she said, eventually, turning to look at him, wearing a warm smile. "I forgive you."

"That's good," he said, secretly very relieved, and, admittedly, a bit flustered with the fire in her eyes. He had been expecting her to be angry; Sheena had a bit of a temper at times, to put it nicely, and he was appropriately quite amazed that she hadn't at least held a grudge for a few days.

"I'm sorry, too," Sheena said, lowly, beginning to turn away, the very picture of regret drawn clearly atop her pretty face. Biting gently at her lip, she plucked a blade of grass and twirled it delicately between her fingers, still refusing to meet his eyes.

"Why?'

Sheena tossed the grass aside and sighed. "Yesterday. With Chocolat. I should have prevented her from doing so much damage to y -- to Iselia."

Lloyd did not miss the slight catch to her voice. "It's fine," he said, choosing his words most carefully. "The town can be rebuilt and no one was hurt too badly." He paused a moment before finishing, taking the opportunity to give her a long glance. "I'm fine, too."

"I thought," Sheena said, so quietly he could only barely hear, "that you had died." She looked torn between embarrassment and concern, and, for that one long moment, Lloyd was thrown an entire day back into the past, his mind wandering to a similar time, a similar place, and, kneeling there with Sheena amidst the fire in Iselia, the exact same words.

Lloyd said nothing, at first, settling further back into the grass, letting the cool blades brush against his skin. "So did I," he admitted, with reluctance, closing his eyes as the memory of the pain -- the memory of the fire -- swept into his mind. He wanted, desperately, to say that it was okay now, that he would be just fine in a few days, that she really shouldn't worry about him.

He was always a terrible liar.

"I couldn't summon," Sheena said, even more quietly than before, so that Lloyd found himself scooting closer just to hear. "I don't know why. I tried, but -- I just couldn't."

Lloyd, somewhat surprised, could only watch as she ducked her head and blinked, raising a hand to brush fiercely at her eyes. He knew, without a doubt, how difficult it was for her to say these things, how arduous it was to simply open up, and, again choosing his words with the utmost care, he spoke softly, his voice cutting gently into the night air. "Have you talked to Raine about it?"

"No," Sheena said, simply, shaking her head. "I don't want them to know."

He was about to ask why -- and then he saw her sigh, using both hands to rub gently at her eyes, and in an instant he had a fair idea as to the answer. "You know," he said, sitting up, struck with his newfound wisdom, "I'm not your friend because you can summon." He barely noticed that their legs were all but touching.

Sheena frowned, cocking her head to the side, for once meeting his gaze straight on. "What do you mean?"

Lloyd gave her a bright smile. "Exactly what I said. I know you think your life is important because you can summon -- but that isn't true. You're Sheena Fujibayashi first, and, after that, my friend, and then maybe the summoner." A grimace broke into his grand logic. "I don't think I'm ever going to try to pronounce your last name ever again."

She laughed, then, the sound soft and lilting, and she sunk further back into the grass, breaking into a lovely grin. Lloyd watched her, smiling, with that content feeling he had all but forgotten in the past weeks. It was miraculous, really, how much lighter he felt, how brighter everything seemed in the midst of the night. Yes, he knew it wouldn't last -- there were too many questions and too many doubts, now, but, so long as the night wore on, he could enjoy it, and, with that thought in mind, plopped back down beside her, simply listening to the sound of her quiet laughter lifting off on the wind.

"Thank you," she said, a few moments later, the words falling gently against the grass. "I guess I needed that."

Lloyd merely shrugged. "You're welcome."

They laid there for a long while, Lloyd stretching and settling further into the grass, paying little mind to anything but the stars draped so neatly overhead.

"Do you miss him?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I guess, with everything that's happened, I really wish he was here." He was hesitant to admit that he missed Kratos, and there was even this nagging thought, too, from the very corners of his mind, a lone voice that said in only the plainest terms his father might be dead. "I hope he's still alive."

Sheena gave a rather un-ladylike snort from his side. "Kratos? Dead? Not likely." Her confidence was infectious.

Lloyd smiled. That was one thing he would always have to remember; no matter what troubles might come, no matter what pain he would have to endure, he would always have his friends, the ones he held close. He could only hope he would be able to return the favor; he knew, without a doubt, that he had made many mistakes in his life, had enough regrets for two lifetimes over, but perhaps the most tragic fault of all was the simplest, the one that had steadily grown to haunt him in the darkest seconds of the day.

"I'll always be there," he murmured, so quietly, and for one moment he could almost believe it. It was such a simple promise, such an easy thing to say, and, maybe, when it all came to a close, one he could keep, one he could remember when he came at last to the end of the road.

Sheena nudged him gently. "Did you say something?"

Lloyd smiled. "Nope."

He turned his eyes skyward, up to the stars, and, for that one moment, they were the brightest he had ever seen them.

"Thanks, Sheena."


	8. Chapter Eight

**Seravine - Chapter Eight**

Author's Note: Whew. Been awhile, hasn't it?

Cue the crickets.

Don't worry - I'm not going to waste your time with some long and fabricated story of how my beloved pet's death forced me to turn to alchohol and drown my sorrows for the last three months in everything but writing. Well, my dog did actually die fairly recently, which, needless to say, was a bit depressing, but the ungodly lateness on this beast of a chapter can be blamed squarely on me - so, by all means, do so. Make sure to leave nasty remarks in your reviews, too.

This chapter has actually been done for about two weeks now, but, given that I've been minus computer for about the last two weeks (having only gotten the actual thing back earlier today), I haven't been able to access the file and upload it, hence a longer delay than I had even hoped. But, all is well now, with the exception that I haven't been able to give this chapter a proper read-through for the inevitable grammar and spelling mistakes. My apologies in advance - if the thing is too messy to read, let me know, and I'll gladly take it down and, as soon as I have the time, read over it a bit more thoroughly.

My thanks, by the way, to those who left reviews for the last chapter. I'm afraid I'm a bit too tired at the moment to do my usual review-reply affair, but, if you manage to forgive me, feel free to leave another review for this chapter and I'll definitely give you some response come next update. I'm actually a bit leery of reviews for this chapter; it's a strange one, in all regards, probably the darkest I've written yet, and, as a result, I'm not too certain how the ToS crowd will take it. All I can ask is that you stick with me, I suppose, for the remaining chapters, as this tale is actually nearing the end and I'd hate to lose readers over my unfortunately demented ideas.

Hmm. I think that's all. Again, apologies, and I hope you enjoy the chapter, delayed as it was. I also apologize if it isn't quite up to my usual standards; now that I'm back into this writing flow sort of thing, however, I can promise the next ones will be of higher quality.

Oh, and I'm hoping to have the next update sometime soon, so look for Chapter Nine at some point in 2007.

Matt

oOo

And that was the thing about midnight; the valley was dark, so simple and plain, with only a hint of moonlight rolling across the grass and along the slopes, and even when Lloyd Irving closed his eyes, then, he could still hear the wind, could still feel the flicker of the campfire brushing against his skin. There was that one moment for the leaves, too, and the branches and the flowers, and in the corner of his eye he could just see the trees slither and shake, rippling as one in the breeze that ran down the mountain.

Maybe night watch wasn't so bad after all.

With a sigh he trundled over close to the campfire, moving to thrust his hands towards the flames, letting the fire curl itself gently around his fingers. Midnight had brought a touch of cool to the mountaintop, some strange chill that sank deep into his bones, and on a whim Lloyd pushed his hands even further forward, briefly entertaining the thought of stealing Zelos's blanket. His friends were, in all regards, sleeping quite peacefully, spread out against the grass in a misshapen circle around the campfire, their faces drawn almost bleakly in the sharp shadows flickering around the firelight.

He knew, come morning, that the lot of them would be thoroughly displeased - Raine in particular, given that her turn to take watch had long since come and gone with the onset of midnight, Lloyd having opted to not awaken her or any of the others for their shifts. He supposed pulling an all-nighter wasn't the brightest of ideas, all things considered, but on the other hand he was loathe to disturb any of his friends from their slumber, feeling such a wave of gratitude for every last one of the shadowed bundles huddled nearby, such a powerful emotion that demanded he do the job himself and give them their rare opportunity to rest in peace. He wondered, at times, if this was not some grand and spectacular waste of time, climbing the godforsaken mountain for something so - so _small_, so plain, some simple black thing, but then his eyes would slip closed and in one long second Lloyd would find himself fallen amidst the fire - amidst the terror and destruction in Iselia, feeling that peculiar throbbing to his veins, that _power_ rushing along his blood and the cold fear it left in its wake.

His knees nearly gave away when a violent shiver wracked his body, the bitter chill racing along his skin, and with a curse he struggled slowly to his feet, wincing as a powerful gale tore across the campsite, the campfire flickering madly. A quick glance around and Lloyd was somewhat pleased - and somewhat envious - to see his friends still sleeping soundly, all wrapped firmly in their blankets, and, with a final small shiver, he sunk down into a sitting position, leaning back against the grass and letting his eyes roll slowly towards the heavens. _Just for a few minutes_, he decided, all but shoving to the side that one small voice ringing in his ears, the one explaining in only the plainest terms that it would do little good for a night watch to fall asleep on the job.

A thin darkness had stretched neatly across the skies in every direction, stealing the night to a lucid black; Lloyd pushed the cold from his mind for all of a moment and allowed himself to sink further back into the grass, a rare smile touching on his lips at the thought of being in the exact same position not a few nights ago - admittedly, with company, the very same girl who was snoring uproariously somewhere to his left and generally terrorizing all small animals in the camp's immediate vicinity. That, in turn, raised the inevitable question as to just how the token assassin of the group was quite possibly the loudest in everything she did, though Lloyd had decided somewhat wisely that it was simply another thing that made Sheena herself, and, in light of such a discovery, immediately passed the question on to Zelos, who had taken the beating rather impressively.

The memory of the incident brought another small smile to his lips and Lloyd snuggled even further back into his makeshift bed, stretching a bit, admittedly enjoying himself and yet finding that there was quite simply one thing missing - a person, actually, someone he reluctantly thought of nearly every day, someone who was floating around on some great magnificent rock in the confines of space. _Kratos_ - on a whim Lloyd turned his attention back to the skies, thinking to pass the time with a little stargazing, hoping something might be waiting for him there - though the breath withered in his throat when he realized that the black had simply cast everything to nothing, stealing the stars and the moonlight from view, plunging the horizon into a peculiar blankness that seemed carried on the wind.

_That's weird_.

Slowly, Lloyd sat back up, blinking once and giving his eyes a quick rub, hoping that he was merely seeing things. Feeling vaguely unsettled, he lifted himself carefully to his feet, bringing both hands to his blades; the wind was picking up, again, tearing through the trees, and in all of a second a great shadow fell across the campsite, plunging it to an inky blackness, a new wind flickering around the fire, lifting the flames and throwing strange shadows along the grass. Lloyd faltered, slightly, his body shaking in the sudden cold - and the unwavering feeling that something had just gone terribly wrong.

"Lloyd?"

Startled, he spun, dropping reflexively into his fighting stance, breathing somewhat easier and dropping his swords when he only found Colette shifting amongst her blankets, looking up at him, raising both hands to rub gently at her eyes. "It's okay," he said, somewhat shakily, almost wincing at how easily the lie came to his lips, though moving nonetheless to drop to one knee beside her. "Sorry if I woke you up."

"What's going on?" she asked, quietly, still rubbing at her eyes, a slight frown tugging at her lips. "I can't see anything," she said, with a twinge of worry to her voice, her hands still brushing not very gently below her brow.

"Nothing - Colette, what's wrong?" Lloyd moved to carefully pull her hands away, tugging gently at her wrists, a frown forming on his own lips when she pulled quickly away, turning to face away from him, her eyes still clamped tightly shut. "Don't rub at them like that, you dork," he said, lightly, cracking a small smile. "It'll just make them hurt worse."

"No, I - " Colette shivered, suddenly, slumping and seeming almost lifeless in the second that followed, and then she came alive with a start, gradually pulling herself up to rest upon her elbows as the fire writhed and rolled in the wind. "Yes," she said, all at once so quiet and calm, still refusing to face him - and then she slowly turned back towards him, her eyes snapping open in an instant and her voice rising high and piercing against the wind. "I suppose you're right."

Lloyd shrank back almost instinctively, losing his footing and falling hard against the grass, only barely suppressing the cry that tore against his throat. Her eyes - they were _black_, simple and dark, a haunting emptiness to match the skies, and with a dull hiss the fire snuffed out, plunging the camp into shadows, and still he could only see Colette - the glimmer to her hair and the white of her clothes and the pure darkness in her eyes and she was shifting, slowly, crawling towards him, swooping low along the ground, moving with a swaying grace that was inhuman and terrifying all at once.

Lloyd scrambled further backwards, his heart thrashing against his ribs, feeling a strange fear sinking into his veins, the words caught in his throat and tearing savagely at the breath coming in short gasps from his lungs. His swords were there, just to his right, and he wanted to latch on to them, to defend himself until the last - but it was _Colette_ and he knew with a keen fear that he could never hurt her, could never draw blood from someone he held so close.

"Lloyd," Colette whispered, as cold as the wind across the valley, and all at once Lloyd found he could move no further, some odd - some _familiar_ - black hand pushing him flat to the grass, clamping down on his chest. She was moving closer, still, a pleasant smile flittering across the pale lips, her eyes still dark and wrong and somehow bright in the shadows. Only when she was huddled over him did she stop, raising an ice-white finger to caress his face, the touch leaving a sensation of fire along his skin. "You shouldn't fight this," she murmured, quietly, her finger roaming along his lips, tracing the curves and stroking at his jaw.

Lloyd could do little but watch with a growing horror as she pulled closer, placing a frozen hand atop his chest, fingertips making great circles around his heart. "Stop," he mumbled, finding only a scant warmth left in his lips, straining against her hold and hoping and pleading that someone - anyone - might wake up, might stop this nightmare, might put the stars back in the skies and tell him it was little more than some odd dream.

"It's taken so long, hasn't it? I'm quite pleased." Colette's roving fingers paused, for a moment, and her eyes flitted towards his, that same blessed smile twisting into a feral grin. Slowly, she inched closer, her head bending towards his, her lips moving so quietly, so softly, though Lloyd heard every word amidst the shadows and the wind. "You have it, don't you? Oh, I hope so!"

She was moving closer, still, her breath coming in delicate moans against his cheek, lips pale and white in the thin darkness. Lloyd could only watch in a silent horror as her mouth came to rest on his neck, lips touching gently at the skin, the sensation so cold and black and - and still he could feel a raging warmth spreading from the spot, a very _wrong_ tingling racing through his veins, even as a blush settled across his cheeks. "Stop," he whispered, again, shaking, trying his hardest to ignore the dull shadows to her eyes, to ignore the disgust for himself he could already feel forming in the darkest corners of his mind.

"Oh, Lloyd," Colette said, lightly, lifting her head for just the moment, "do you really want me to?" Without pausing for an answer she dipped her head again, kissing along the line of his jaw, her hands playing at the collar of his shirt, trailing a few white fingers across his throat. "Simply say the word," she murmured, that queer smile touching against her lips, that black fire flickering quietly in her eyes.

_This isn't Colette_, Lloyd thought, somewhat frantically, struggling in vain as the girl's roaming lips neared his own. She was moving closer, fingertips creeping up to encircle his face - and in that instant Lloyd felt the word ripping forth painfully from his throat, echoing throughout the valley, somewhat muffled and yet still completely clear in the darkness.

"_Stop!_"

He collapsed with a sigh as Colette sunk slowly back, her hands falling to his waist, a delicate sigh escaping from her lips. "No? Perhaps later, then." With the same dangerous smile she tugged gently at the pouch tucked into his belt, arching a single eyebrow. "Two days, my friend. Bring it along, won't you? We'll be waiting." Moving with that same unnatural grace, Colette settled lightly back onto her legs, looking for all of a moment the same girl he had known so long ago as a child. "Do not disappoint me, Lloyd," she said, at last, and with great shiver her eyes flashed blue and white, the pallor fading from her skin, and in the same instant that Lloyd felt the bonds holding him to the earth shatter, she fell, curving backwards with a sob and collapsing to the grass, unmoving.

In a matter of seconds Lloyd was up again on his feet, swords at hand, a burning rage rolling through his veins, entirely torn between tending to Colette and searching for any sign of the _bastard_ that had put her through such a nightmare. His ears only barely caught the sound of a echoing laughter in the distance, carried on the rippling leaves, and then already he was running, darting along the path, heading up one of the mountain's many hills at an enraged speed and glancing desperately around the trail for some sign - any sign - of movement. The laughter was there, still, whirling away on the wind, and Lloyd kept running, climbing, slipping a bit on the slick path, fire in his lungs and sweat sneaking down into his eyes.

"_Where are you!_" he roared, the words fading to nothing, and then again - low laughter to the side, coming from a plateau just above him, and then he again he was running, jamming his swords into their places at his waist, climbing the rocky surface without a second thought, the sharp stones biting into his hands and jabbing at his knees. Lloyd could scarce notice, entirely pushing the pain and the cold away, forcing his muscles to keep moving, to reach the top - and in an instant his hand had slipped, grasping only empty air, and the sweat was burning his eyes and he was falling backwards, his heart ramming against his ribs, plunging rapidly into the wind and the darkness.

The ground was looming closer and he landed with a cry, striking his back with a sickening crack along the grass, and then he was rolling, tumbling, almost bouncing along the path, a sensation of blinding pain rocking along his skin, the air torn from his lungs and a seeping coldness latching onto his bones. Time seemed to all but stop - he was being nearly thrown down the path, crying aloud every time he struck one of the great rocks jutting from the hill, the world spinning and dark and strangely quiet, save for his own harsh breathing.

He rolled to a stop, at last, near the camp, near the again-flickering fire, a terrible cough ripping from his lips and spraying the grass with a frightening amount of blood. The crimson was rolling down into his eyes and he could hardly see anything at all and he could hardly move and everything was so odd, so dark, so - so _cold_, so ungodly cold, and everything was so broken and _empty_. Dazed, he tried to move, to at least sit up - and another cry fell from his lips as a sharp pain sunk into his leg, cutting like ice into the muscle, pulling a dry sob from his throat and forcing him to collapse back onto his side.

The pain was spreading, flowing out along his body, and already he was fading, slipping into the darkness; sleep seemed so welcome, then, some precious escape, but still he forced his eyes open and so slowly turned his head, breath coming still in quick gasps, eyes falling to the fire, the flames which were dancing almost merrily in their place. Forcing his eyes to focus, he looked at last toward his leg, almost dreading to see the damage - and he gave something of a strangled sob when he saw the flesh impaled upon his own sword, the blade jammed into one side and emerging red-rimmed from the other. He needed _help_ and he was alone and he could just barely see Colette to his side and she still wasn't moving and he could still hardly breathe and - _everyone was gone_.

His friends were missing, their blankets all but shredded, and the fire was still burning and a black weight pressing against his throat, and he was crying, trying to breathe, his lungs shaking with the effort. Colette was quiet and motionless and _everybody was gone_ and he was alone, somehow, and the stars were back in the skies, and he wondered, brokenly, how everything had gone wrong, how he had lost everything and everyone and how he was so damn cold, laying next to the fire, unable to feel even the shimmering smoke curling around his skin.

Somehow, he was alone.

oOo

_Blood._

_It was everywhere, really, here, there, left and right, up and down - and he was standing alone on the field, daggers clutched in his hands, wondering how every man against the horizon was carved to pieces the moment he closed his eyes. He was shaking, a bit, still reeling from the fire racing along his veins, touched by the dead wind rolling across the grass, the same grass painted red and the same wind carrying the sound of silence to his ears._

_What was it that they called him? The Demon General?_

_Yes. Perhaps that was accurate. Perhaps he was a bit of a demon, after all - for what else could he be? Few others stepped to the battlefield alone, yes, and far fewer stepped from it alive - perhaps there was something unnatural, then, to the way he was alone, untouched, unscarred, and yet bathed in the blood of every shadow on that field except his own._

_He moved, slowly, staggering off into the grass, his limbs deadened, the red-rimmed fingers dropping his daggers to the earth. The sky was swimming, the horizon swirling and twirling against his eyes, and he lost his balance, then, collapsing onto the dirt, landing with a thud that seemed to be swallowed much too quickly into the silence. It was getting hard to remember, now, what had brought him here - he had been forgetting things, recently, things he knew he shouldn't forget, things like his past and things like how he had come across that peculiar black jewel kept forever close by his side._

_That jewel - it was a strange one, he knew. He remembered only that it had saved him, so long ago, had brought him from the brink of death, had given him strength and warmth and the necessary power to strike out against the world. He brought it, on a whim, out of its pouch, holding it up with tired fingers against the sunset, marveling at the way it shone against the fading sun._

_Except he blinked, then, and screamed, dropping the jewel to the grass, scrambling backward and collapsing again on shaky legs, staring at his hands in horror. They were black, now, entirely a shade of midnight, seeming almost shapeless and vague in the withering light - but the fingertips were shifting, then, forming into great claws, powerful talons befitting a devil of the highest ranks in hell. He was shaking, again, blinking his eyes so quickly, hoping it was just an illusion - and then his hands were back to normal and again bathed in blood and he sank to the grass, breathing quickly, finding his face much too close to that jewel but finding himself much too tired to move._

_Something was happening, he knew. Something was going to happen and he supposed he should have been afraid - but the fear was fading, falling away, and he was relaxing, then, finding the memories rolling back into his mind. The jewel would protect him. It always had, of course, and he never had doubted it, until now, when there was so muchblack bloodpainted around him, when the jewel was flickering in the sunlight and a black hand settling close to his heart._

_And then suddenly he was screaming, quaking in the grass,feeling his body shift and reshape and tear, and there was blackness all around and blackness in the way the last taste of sunlight reflectedagainst thered-stained grass._

_Blood._

_It was everywhere, really._

oOo

Pain.

"Are you awake, then?"

_What?_

"Come, now. Open your eyes."

_Are they...gone?_

"Lloyd?"

_Alone..._

"Come, come. Open your eyes."

Lloyd did so, slowly, his eyes reeling in protest from the light weaving and dancing around his face. Everything hurt - everything was painful and he could hardly even move his body and it was really much too _bright_. There was someone there, some man lurking overhead; he looked vaguely familiar, maybe, and somehow completely different in the light's flowing color. "Where am I?" Lloyd asked, gradually, his throat dry and lips magnificently cracked.

"On the road to recovery, I hope. Here - drink."

Water was pressed against his lips and Lloyd simply complied, letting the liquid trail down his throat, feeling only marginally refreshed but suitably awake now to blink his eyes a bit and let his gaze wander around the room. He was in a cabin, a plain wooden room, one with only the sparsest furnishings but an absolutely interesting amount of books.

Books?

_The Storyteller_.

"Where are my friends?" Lloyd asked, immediately, the words rough and unsteady but flowing all the same. There was a small hope, there, in the back of his mind, that maybe they were here, somehow, resting in just the next room, with Colette, too, and everyone would be fine and everyone would be okay -

"You came with only the Chosen, did you not?"

Lloyd's eyes slipped shut again and the great burden, lifted for only a moment, came crashing back down onto his shoulders, seeming to almost push him further back into the bed. That crushing loss he had felt for only those few seconds after his fall came tumbling back full-force, settling into the back of his mind, bringing unbidden tears to his eyes and a gnawing frustration to the way his hands clutched tightly to the bed sheets. "No," he said, quietly, all but withdrawing into himself, feeling remarkably alone once again despite the other man's presence.

"I am sorry," the Storyteller began, and Lloyd cracked his eyes open to see the man sink back into a nearby chair, exhaustion written plainly in the lines of his face. "But I found you two and no one else."

Lloyd nodded, briefly, letting his eyes trail down to his own body, finding instead a great swath of bandages that all but chained him to the bed. "I can't move," he said, somewhat helplessly, struggling a bit and gasping when a sharp pain cut into his limbs. With a sigh of frustration he sunk back into his pillow; now was _not_ the time to be laying about completely injured, not when Sheena and Raine and Zelos and _everyone_ could be in danger, not when Colette - "How is she?" he asked, immediately, feeling almost guilty for not thinking of it sooner, even as the piercing memory of her black eyes rose to mind.

"The Chosen has yet to awaken," the older man said, still slumping a bit in his chair, a wistful expression crossing his face. "She suffered no injuries, thankfully, though she seems to be in a deep sleep nonetheless." He turned, then, to Lloyd, with an admonishing expression of eerie similarity that of Raine's. "You must not move for a few more hours - my magic isn't quite as strong as it used to be, and it will take some time before you are healed."

Lloyd said nothing, simply shifting a bit against his pillow, almost hesitant to ask the next question that sprung to his lips. "My leg?" There was that peculiar sensation of blood, of pain and tears, of how cleanly the sword had sunk into his skin, and for a second he felt somewhat nauseous, fighting in vain against the image of seeing his own blood trailing down the blade's edge.

"It will heal completely, in time. I'm afraid you must not put much effort on it for at least a few weeks, lest it be permanently damaged."

"But I can't do that!" Lloyd said, much louder than he had intended, though the Storyteller didn't look surprised in the least. "My friends are in danger," he went on, quite plainly, not bothering to hide the worry underlining his words. "I have to help them! I only have two days or something bad might happen to them." He knew he sounded weak, perhaps, but, all things considered, he decided he didn't really give a damn, at least not the point where he would bother to blink away the tears of frustration rolling down his cheeks.

The Storyteller moved, slowly, to lift a small bag from the floor, arching an eyebrow and shaking it gently. "Plenty of time, then, to tell me where you managed to find _this_." With a quick touch to the drawstrings he dumped the bag's contents onto his palm - and in the moment the jewel came to light the buzzing began, the chaotic rumblings echoing in Lloyd's mind, the same vague words he could only just catch through the roaring static.

"You - you know what it is?"

The older man merely shrugged, twisting and tumbling the jewel through his fingers, letting it catch the white light and frowning as the gem seemed to grow only darker. "I should certainly hope so. It has not been seen for many years." Eventually, he slid the thing back into its bag, and, setting it aside, turned back to Lloyd, with a look of intent curiosity. "Please, tell me your story. To my knowledge, Seravine has not surfaced since the Great Kharlan War."

Lloyd blinked. "Seravine?" he asked, rolling the word along his tongue, before giving a small shrug. "Funny name." And a moment later he began his story, from the beginning, from finding the jewel in the depths of Gaoracchia forest to where it had brought him now, pausing only a moment during the memory of the fires in Iselia to turn his head and shake away the image of the destruction.

"You have come a long way, my friend," the Storyteller said, quietly, wearing an expression of instinctive thoughtfulness. "It was quite lucky I found you this morning, for that matter. You certainly seem to have been through quite an ordeal last night."

"Yeah," Lloyd said, his mind very much elsewhere. "Looks like it." He was growing frustrated, again, at this waiting, at knowing his friends might be in danger, but before he could voice his complaints the other man's voice snapped into hearing.

"Allow me, then, to tell you what I know. I'm afraid it is very little, but what I have learned may be of use to you."

Lloyd simply nodded, shifting a bit and settling further back against the pillow, knowing he had little other choice for the time being. "I'm listening."

"I know of only one other man to have ever carried it," the Storyteller began, his eyes wandering somewhere far off and away, seeming almost to sink into his thoughts. "Someone who has been dead for many years, most thankfully." There was a certain darkness to the smile that played across his lips.

Lloyd arched an eyebrow. "That wasn't very nice," he said, lightly, pausing a moment and almost flinching as the word _hypocrite_ rose suddenly to the front of his mind.

The other man gave a small shrug. "I am glad, regardless, for if he were alive I fear our problems would be far worse than they currently are." He paused, briefly, furrowing his brow, before turning back to Lloyd. "I believe you've encountered him, once, though not directly."

"Who?"

"Richard Nebilim."

A stunned silence enveloped the room. And then came the memories - of the Shadow Temple, of Abyssion, of Presea and her darkness and of the fight, the nightmare, the battle that went so long and so quickly and brought only the same bloodshed and pain in the end. There was something else, too, some brief important sort of thing, something Lloyd knew he should realize, something he knew he should have latched on to, but the feeling fell away as quickly as it came and he turned back to the Story Teller, the words already settling onto his lips.

"The Demon General," he said, softly, the words coming smoothly and suddenly, such that he hardly knew he was speaking.

"Yes," the Story Teller agreed, something youthful coming across his face as his eyes grew far and away. "A tragic tale in every sense of the phrase. Let's see - how does it begin?" He paused, a moment, stroking at his chin, and then continued with a burst of enthusiasm. "Ah, yes, I recall now! He was a thief, if I remember correctly, a young lad who made a living on the market streets. I do not pretend to know his history, or as to how he was forced to live such a life, mind you, though there seem good indications that he had some conflict with his father at one point or the other."

_This sounds familiar_, Lloyd thought, briefly, narrowing his eyes and digging back into his mind, though only some strange fog came tumbling into his grasp. "Go on."

"Yes, certainly. It was in one of his thieveries that he came across Seravine, I believe, and, upon eventually being caught, was forced to flee to the forests, where the jewel gradually twisted him into a monster befitting of its black curse." The Story Teller slowed a moment, his eyes falling to Lloyd's, and, with a frown, stood and began to pace to and fro across the room, his footsteps echoing gently against the plain wooden surface. "What do you know of his death?" he asked, finally, coming to a heavy stop.

"Curse?" The word had rung strong and true against his thoughts, snapping him to attention, and Lloyd turned to the older man with something akin to worry. "What do you mean?"

The Story Teller frowned, turning his head to the side, glancing out the window for all of a moment before running a weathered hand along the back of his skull. "Later," he said at last, nodding. "I will tell you what I know in a moment. First, answer my question - what do you know of his death?"

Lloyd tried vainly to shrug, struggling a short moment against his bandages. "Not much. Abyssion told us he was killed by a legendary swordsman, I think. With twelve legendary weapons, however that works."

The Story Teller gave a brief chuckle. "And you believe the word of someone who tricked you into bringing him the necessary instruments for the invocation?"

_Damn_. "I hadn't thought about that," Lloyd said, truthfully, wondering why the possibility had never once come to mind. "I guess it makes sense he would lie. Something tells me a legendary swordsman wouldn't have much use for a chakram," he continued, lightly, his mind flittering back a moment to Colette and then immediately returning as a fresh twinge of guilt ran rampant across his gut.

"Quite true. It is unfortunate I did not know of your quest to collect the items, for I would have done my utmost to stop you. If you are curious, the twelve weapons are unique artifacts held by only the wickedest warriors in history, each with sufficient power to allow - what was his name? Abyssion? - to call the soul of Nebilim into his body." He paused, again, another dark smile leaping to his lips. "I suspect you're curious as to how I learned all of this."

Lloyd nodded. "Yeah."

"Allow me to put it this way," the man began, seeming to weigh his words most carefully. "I have spoken with this same legendary swordsman who did the deed so long ago." He fell silent for a minute before turning with a wry grin. "And no, I'm not that old. Rather, the one I spoke with has remarkable longevity, such to bring the tale in our current days."

"Wow," Lloyd said, simply, bringing it all in, eying the other man with an enhanced respect. He was tempted, all at once, to ask this legendary warrior's name, but at the same moment the question sprung to his lips, the Story Teller returned to his chair with a wince, his own question breaking the silence.

"Tell me then, Lloyd. What do you plan to do?"

Lloyd tried and failed again to shrug. "I really don't know how I'm going to do it, but I have to save my friends. They're everything to me." He turned his face aside for the moment, trying to stem the damnable tears that came to his eyes. "Some _bastard_ took them," he went on, tasting blood on his tongue as he nearly choked on the words, feeling all at once submerged and gloriously above the rage that swept across his bandaged body, an anger that was new and almost frightening in its strength.

"You realize, yes, that they could be scattered anywhere across our world?"

"Yeah," Lloyd said, softly, now, his anger deflated, leaving the guilt and the helplessness to crawl back in. "I wasn't strong enough," he said, almost quietly, feeling the need to explain, perhaps misreading the look that flashed across the older man's face. He shifted, in the thick silence, letting his eyes wander to the pouch sitting so plainly on the floor. "What has it done to me?" he asked, suddenly, the words almost falling from his mouth, wishing against all odds that he had never found the damn thing that stormy night in Gaoracchia. It was the same question he had posed not moments before, and, if the tiredness that came to the other man's eyes was any indication, not one his host was looking to answer.

"Only what you have allowed it," the Story Teller said, pensively, leaning back further into his chair with a look of brooding. "I wish I could say there was some simple way to be rid of the thing, but Seravine is not of this world. Its origins have been forever a mystery, to my mind, and the only other man to have wielded it..." he trailed off, momentarily, turning his eyes away. "Well, I'd imagine you can guess."

"Will I - " Lloyd fell silent, for a second, trying and failing to squash the sinking feeling that had begun to rain down against his stomach. "Will I become like him?" he asked, at last, almost dreading the answer, and knowing, still, that the question had to be asked.

"I do not know," the older man said, with apparent honesty. "Perhaps you are strong. Perhaps you have nothing to fear. Perhaps - "

"Perhaps it's too late," Lloyd said, softly, the words sinking gently into the silence.

"Perhaps it is too late," the Story Teller agreed, nodding. He came closer, then, scooting his chair to rest near the bed, looking Lloyd straight in the eyes. "I do not know who - or what - has taken your friends. I do not know where they may lie now, or even if they are still alive. I'm afraid I don't even know enough about Seravine to tell you with all honesty what may happen." A bitter smile touched upon his lips. "And yet you came here in search of my guidance. Sit a moment, then, and listen, and I will tell you what I _do_ know, what I can tell after hearing your story."

There was a strange fire in the depths of the man's eyes.

"It has begun. You may have been safe, at one point in time, but Seravine has begun to wrap itself around you, has begun to work its curse within your blood. Only you, however, can decide what happens - whether you lose yourself to the darkness, or whether you fight until some way of destroying the thing is found. This, I fear, will be your greatest battle." The strength that had so previously affected his voice quavered, gently, before fading. "You fight not for the world, now, Lloyd. You fight for yourself."

It was so strange - there was darkness, there, in that very room, somehow flittering in and out against the light pouring in through the window; Lloyd could almost see it, now, somewhere in the shadows, somewhere in the scant black beneath the older man's eyes, or perhaps somewhere in the depths of his own mind. Everything seemed so much grander now, so much more precious - but _everything_ had _changed_ and suddenly this frightening black gem was shaping him, slowly, giving him its power, lending some dark strength that he didn't want and couldn't refuse.

It was all so _confusing_. He longed for a time where it had been so much simpler - back in the schoolhouse, perhaps, with just Genis and Colette, carrying buckets of water and wondering why Professor Raine always called on him for the answers he never bothered to know. He liked to think it really wasn't so much to ask, in the end, for just some opportunity to start over in his life, to maybe make a few more right choices and never step a foot in the damned Gaoracchia Forest ever again.

But then some old picture came to mind - a memory he had, tucked back into his thoughts, of his friends, his companions, standing in some nameless field and sharing a wide smile. Perhaps this was worth it - if he could make their lives better, perhaps this pain and this darkness wasn't so dangerous after all.

"Lloyd?"

"I'll never give in," he said, at once, a new determination coming to mind, narrowing his eyes at the bag sitting so innocently by the chair. "It's a part of me, now," he said, softly, working through his thoughts, feeling a refreshing strength in the words that slipped free from his mouth. "I've been around it too long. But that doesn't matter - so long as my friends are safe, I'll carry this to my grave." Slowly, Lloyd's eyes slipped close, his words echoing past the falling sun coming with a weak fervor through the window. "I'll never give in."

"You have only one option, then," the Story Teller murmured. There was reluctance, there, some faint twinge to the man's voice, and, for a moment, a new silence fell lightly across the room.

Lloyd opened his eyes.

"I'm listening."

oOo

She was sleeping, so quietly, hardly moving at all, and Lloyd took her hand in his, relieved to feel the warmth, nearly collapsing back into his chair and wondering just how many times he would have to see her like this. She had been through so much trial, so much torture, and, even now, she was _smiling_, her breath coming in light and gentle whispers across her lips, looking for all the world like the angel she had never truly wanted to be. He wondered if she would remember - remember that pain not so long ago, remember feeling that one moment where some curious hand had taken hold of her body, remember that it was _completely his fault_ and blame him like he knew she wouldn't.

He wondered, mostly, if she would ever wake up again.

The gem was sitting at his belt and the words were still running through his mind - _You have only one option_ - and he wasn't sure if he could actually do this, could actually go through with the idea, could actually give in to the forces he had been fighting so valiantly for so long. And then _their_ faces would slip to mind and he knew he didn't have much of a choice, really, and, all things considered, maybe he was okay with that, as it saved him a lot of time from thinking it over. _Everyone needs me_. _Sheena, Raine - hell, even Zelos, I guess_.

Slowly, a hand slipped to his belt, the fingers unfurling the bag's clasp, and after a moment he brought the jewel - _Seravine?_ - to light, almost staggering as that damnable static again crushed against his mind. There were voices now, and he could almost hear the words; it was a woman, some poor soul Lloyd knew he should recognize, but still it wasn't clear and still all sounds slipped away save for the screams scattered amongst the noise. The jewel was throbbing, too, scintillating at his fingers, and it was with a sigh that Lloyd stood on unstable legs, closing his fingers tightly around the gem. _No turning back now_.

_You have only one option, then_.

All at once the room was shifting, changing, some obsidian smoke whirling and twirling around his feet, and he could feel new life to his veins, new strength to his blood, and again some dark hand settling so much closer to his heart. He would keep fighting - it was his only chance, his only hope, but there was this new idea, too, that no matter what happened, no matter what was laying just before the horizon, it was his friends that truly mattered. So long as they were safe, Lloyd knew without a doubt that he would be just fine, never mind this calling darkness or the sense curling in his stomach that the end to this nightmare was drawing near.

_Listen carefully, Lloyd. If you wish it, Seravine can take you where you need to go_.

And still the darkness was curling, rolling around his limbs, the gem pulsing wildly in his hand, and he turned back to Colette for one last look, glad and depressed all at once for having to leave her - except she was awake, watching him, her eyes blue and round, and her skin was so pale and one small tear was slipping from her eye.

She was - the word came slowly and all at once - beautiful. He had known that, had _always_ known that, but for whatever reason it came to him full force, then, watching a pearl-like tear roll down from her eye, wanting to move closer and brush it away and yet knowing that doing so would only make it that much harder to say goodbye. Perhaps, at some other time, maybe when this mess was entirely over and tucked away into the past, he could simply sit down and talk with her, could simply wrap her in a hug and think back to everything they had been through together.

Lloyd had come to realize, eventually, just what the wrenching feeling he felt every time he watched her cry truly was; there was a name to it, he was sure, something he probably wasn't ready for, not when everything was so confusing and when he might even be feeling the same way for someone else too. But it was there, regardless, and he knew it would have to be taken care of - perhaps when everything was over, when everything was said and done, when he could put his life back on track and take care of the matters that were truly important in the grand scheme of things.

"Are you coming back?" she asked, so softly, though the words came sharp and piercing through the static's roar.

_But I must warn you..._

Lloyd turned his head to the side, closing his eyes, knowing he couldn't lie. He didn't want to - but no, it had to be done, it had to be said, lest he let this black wrap around him and leave her question to the chill of the empty room. He looked at her, then, sliding his eyes open just a fraction, feeling something like his old smile slip back onto his face - the one he could barely remember, the one that made him who he truly was, and the one that had to tell her he might never see her again.

"I don't know."

_You may not survive_.

She was crying, now, the tears coming freely, and, in one long second, he was gone.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Seravine - Chapter Nine**

Author's Note: Well, on the bright side, it isn't quite 2007...

Only one more chapter to go after this. Hard to believe, actually, that I've made it through a chaptered sort of story, as this was my first venture in that type of writing. Think it turned out pretty well, actually. : ) Usual complaints about this chapter in particular apply, I suppose. I don't hate it, surprisingly, but there's a few aspects of it that throw me off, the most important of which I'll mention here: yes, it ends somewhat abruptly/terribly, and I apologize for that, though I'm of the mind it's the best way to go about things. You'll see what I mean come next time I update, heh.

I hate to have to do this, as it's entirely my fault that updates aren't very regular, but I'd recommend rereading the previous chapter before delving too much into this one (or, to be more specific, Lloyd's chat with the Storyteller) - it isn't mandatory, of course, but you might be better off for it...

Review responses:

**callan** - My thanks for the glowing review. : ) Here's chapter nine, hopefully for your enjoyment.

**Phoenixfire1389** - No, I'm not going to leave it there, as you can see. : )

**LuxDragon** - You know, I actually didn't play Warrior Within. I was a huge fan of the original, but after hearing that the Prince's personality all but evaporated for the sequel, I never bothered to pick it up. Hmm. Might want to reconsider that.

: ) - I'm glad Colette was suitably creepy. Rather enjoyed writing that part. Uh, just a warning, you may be slightly disturbed by Chapter Ten..

**FireEdge** - I can't complain about late reviews when I'm terrible at updates myself. : ) I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Hopefully you'll derive a similar entertainment from this one. I'm also pleased that you appreciate Seravine's history - I have pages upon pages of notes concerning the blasted thing, all possible theories as to its origins and nature. Thankfully, I've settled on one that seems to fit the bill, so expect to learn more of it in...the future. Ahem.

**Tetra-Slash** - Mysteriousness gone, you say? Hmm. I'm afraid things are going to get much worse. : )

**Im that one guy **- Heh. Kudos, my man. Those were pretty nasty. As for my dog, well, no, he died of old age, though I have to give you props for deeming my story black enough. Wee!

As for your prediction, well, I shan't say a word. Would ruin the fun, after all. : ) Glad you appreciate the back-history; it's really quite insane, how detailed I've gone in my notes, a fact which will nonetheless pay off in..the future. Ahem.

**Ilvinaeda **- I meant, actually, to send you an email of thanks for such a nice review, so please accept my apologies for being an utter jerk and completely forgetting. That said, however, you have my thanks for the compliments on my writing. Ego boosts are always fun. : ) I'm relieved the plot hasn't been very predictable, to be honest, as there's still quite a bit of mystery and drama to go. As for Colette..hmm. To be honest, I'd have to disagree regarding her appearances - I can name at least three off the top of my head, so I'd say she's gotten a decent amount of exposure. Regardless, however, you've my thanks for the honesty. I'll know for future projects to more carefully monitor each character's 'screen' time.

That looks to be it. Can't say I have anything else extraordinarily exciting to say, so I'll let you get straight to the chapter. Expect Chapter 10 sometime in 2007!

And on a completely unrelated note, was anyone else disappointed by the _Half-Blood Prince_?

oOo

_You may not survive._

Slowly, Lloyd opened his eyes.

There was the smell of bone - of blood, of dust and darkness, of stale light and smoke as a single lantern danced and swung overhead. The gray-stained glass threw its warmth to and fro across the corridor, carving a lone set of stone steps from the shadows, pushing the darkness away for just the moment to follow his footsteps as he made his way at once down the staircase. He had the vaguely unsettling feeling that he had been here, once before, back when things had seemed that much simpler, though the notion only dwindled as the stairs plummeted forward and downward into the distance, sinking to a depth that brought a certain chill to his lungs and a hint of cloud to his breath.

_Are you coming back?_

An encircling ache had latched on to his leg, biting with every step he took, to the point where he gradually found himself stumbling down the slick steps at a pace that was so safe and so slow and so absolutely infuriating. He was _wasting time_ and his friends could be in danger and he felt a particular twinge of anger at being so weak, at being so utterly helpless, at being unable to do anything more than place his hand along the wall and push forward, watching his breath curl and leap away into the patchwork darkness. There was the temptation, somewhere in his mind, to slide Seravine out of its pouch and let it carry him the rest of the way - but the jewel was writhing in its bag, madly, almost straining against the seams, and Lloyd couldn't dare ignore the unease stirring in his heart at the peculiar gray fire he had seen rolling just beneath its surface.

_Curse?_

_Perhaps it is too late..._

The words rung through his mind, even now, making him doubt and wonder and worry, knowing the question bothered him far more than he would ever care to admit. There was something infinitely terrifying that came coupled with the thought of losing himself to darkness - of pushing everything away and embracing the shadows he knew were moving with a measured pace right beside his footsteps. He remembered, when he let his thoughts wander for just the moment, Abyssion, and the nightmare that had taken hold in the depths of the Temple of Darkness; he refused, however, to entertain the chance that he might become something of that sort, instead finding only a dangerous motivation to put everything right, to save his friends and be rid of the damnable jewel and settle back into the times where things weren't such an awful shade of grey.

He was tempted, admittedly, to just toss Seravine itself, to watch it tumble down the steps, falling to shadow, but still the thought came that perhaps he could never be entirely rid of it, that perhaps he would actually _need_ the accursed thing in the last encounter he knew was just beyond the horizon - just beyond these steps, just beyond this staircase slinking further down into the depths of the earth. Lloyd himself knew he had never been much of a dreamer, never much the type to sit with his head in the clouds, and it was strange and amusing all the same to think that he was so entirely focused on what was just beyond his reach, what lay only a sword's length away. The future, he had decided, was that much nicer than the present, especially when he allowed himself a picture of happiness - of sitting back in Iselia with his friends and just watching the sun slip from the sky.

_You fight for yourself_.

No - that wasn't necessarily true. The Story Teller's words were wrong, yes, though a tad right, and _still_ Lloyd couldn't really decide and _still_ he already knew his answer - already knew that there was really no need to curb his usual manner of thinking. It had been his friends first, always, and he was bent on keeping it as such, having already made the promise to himself not so long ago to do _everything_ in his power to ensure their safety. A question, however, was slowly creeping to mind, one that seemed carried on the frozen air, one that had hardly seemed to be of any importance at all until Seravine had stolen him into the darkness and carried him to where he needed to go.

What exactly _was_ his power? He could remember in only the plainest words the sheer strength and sheer power that came only when the jewel should raise him up; the thought was frightening and new and, inexplicably, exciting - rather as if there was some small side to him that enjoyed moving along the winds and unleashing the curious fire that ran through his veins. Lloyd immediately pushed the thought aside, banishing it to some other grey corner in the depths of his mind, not wanting to think too deeply on the matter and opting instead to thread back for a hint of his old optimism. He convinced himself, with little ease, that it would be only a little longer - one step, two step, darkness - before he would find his friends, before this damnable staircase would finally draw to an end, before the air should plummet any further and cast the temperature to somewhere far below. The lantern-light had long since faded and he was traveling nearly blind, now, wincing at the terseness in his muscles, feeling his way with caution down the steps and keeping his eyes locked forward from the crimson smears his groping fingers could feel on the wall.

_Blood_.

_It was everywhere, really_.

He stopped, so suddenly, his feet almost sliding along the stone, wrenching his hand from the wall and trying not to shake as a peculiar rush of fear latched deep into his veins. His vision was flittering and fading in the darkness of the corridor, and, for one silent moment, his hands were no more - they were dark and long and clawed, stretching forward, and there was a fresh terror in the way everything had changed - and then just as suddenly everything was back to normal; breath came to his lungs in short and violent gasps and he was flexing his fingers, immensely relieved to see the familiar red gloves, almost falling to his knees as that particular fear was swept so quickly away. He wasn't quite sure what had happened, yes, what exactly had occurred, there, but he knew now that he could only move forward, could only keep pushing down the steps, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg and keeping his hands firmly out in front of him as he started back down into the darkness.

Lloyd had the distinct feeling that he was running out of time.

As if on cue, the staircase gave way, at once, to a long and dank passage, and he found himself hurrying along it, pushing his legs to a painful sprint and steeling himself for what he felt was just ahead. It struck him strange, then, how everything was so dark - how his eyes had little chance of adjusting and how the cold stone all around him seemed to only roll forward forever into shadow. But he was close, so close, and then this quiet warm promise was coming to mind, a sense of reassurement that he had found himself desperately needing in the overwhelming black.

_I'll always be there._

He could so easily remember - could never forget laying on the grass, under the moonlight, and then the fire-touched chaos in Iselia, and the old classrooms and the old buckets and all of the old memories that seemed so important, so precious, and yet so damnably far away. But he had made _that_ promise, not long ago, and it was still close, and, really, little else truly mattered - for even in this gaping darkness, the words still rang true.

The long passage ended, then, coming to seemingly nothing, to a quiet and black little room shrouded in dust and shadow. Lloyd skidded to a halt, abruptly, his swords already drawn, eyes scanning the area, feeling a curious crash of relief and disappointment to find that there simply was so little there - a large coffin, yes, situated in the middle of the room, and a plain grey mirror, too, certainly not what he had been expecting to find at the base of the stairs. Taking a long breath, he padded forward, carefully, stepping along the cold stone, turning every so often to sweep his eyes fully across the room. A thick sort of unease had stretched out across his stomach, training his ears for even the slightest sound, such that he could have sworn there was something there - something moving and watching in the way the shadows curled around his ankles.

He came first to the coffin and ran a single finger along its edge, frowning as the glove came away with nary a mark; no hint of dust or dirt marred the stone surface, leaving it with the impression of being well-tended, an utter contrast to the near decrepit state of the rest of the room. Lloyd watched it for a moment, waiting, hardly knowing what to expect, though there came only the silence and the gathering darkness, and, eventually, he moved onward, coming at last to the mirror situated on the wall nearby.

His first response was surprise - he hadn't, admittedly, given much thought to his looks as of late, what with everything that had happened, and it was a fact that shone clearly in the black shades beneath his eyes and the dried blood laced along his skin. He pushed it aside, though, turning his mind back to the task at hand, feeling not the first bit of disappointment at having apparently come to a dead end. There was something quite strange, yes, to that coffin, but there was still the thought that maybe Seravine had lead him astray - had brought him to somewhere entirely different from where he actually needed to be.

Lloyd was just turning away, swords falling loose to his side, when he felt it; the pouch at his waist was shaking more so than before, almost jumping, and with a frown he lifted it free of its clasp, undoing the top and dumping its contents onto his palm. Seravine was _writhing_, in a way, the jewel shaking and quivering against his glove, the dark fire in its cut snapping to life with a growing ferocity. Curious, he glanced back towards the mirror, where the gem seemed to most react - and fell back a bit when the reflection was changing, rapidly, shifting black and blue. He had a single glimpse of his own face, for that moment, of his shadows and the pale white of his eyes, and Seravine, too, but the jewel's image had changed, entirely, now glimmering a powerful white, a color entirely strange and foreign and so soon lost in the mirror's coiling glass.

All at once the buzzing began, the static roaring anew, and Lloyd almost crumbled to his knees, finding the screaming and the words almost too close to bear. He _knew_ he should recognize the voice and he _knew_ it was just on the tip of his tongue but it seemed too late, then, as the roaring rang out against his ears, the crackling that seemed curiously in time with Seravine's rolls against his palm. Desperate, he stumbled back, thinking to seal the gem back into its pouch, but his eyes again fell to the mirror - and the breath was torn from his chest as the reflection fell again into the expected, into the normal, of this very same room and of the mass of bodies piled beside the coffin -

"NO!"

Quickly, he spun, sweeping his eyes around the room, and there was nothing there and he was having trouble catching his breath and immediately he fell back around, latching his eyes onto the mirror. It was the same scene and then it wasn't - some terrible mockery of what Lloyd could touch and feel in the shadows behind him, some horrible picture of his friends crimson and black and _dead_ in a careless pile behind the glass. Lurching forward, he brushed his fingers against the cold surface, wretchedly, one hand still clutched tightly around the throbbing gem, and as the mirror's surface shattered and cracked around his touch, somewhere, in the back of his mind, Lloyd knew that everything had gone terribly wrong.

oOo

_"Lloyd!"_

_Slowly, he opened his eyes. Then came familiarity - a breath of recognition and a breath of fire that ran and clutched at his skin. It was hot, much too hot, and already he knew where he was, knew where he was standing, and knew he had never wanted to see this damnable place ever again. No, no, not this place, not this house, not this mistake; he didn't want to see it, didn't want to step forward, wanted to just fall back and lay down and let the fire wrap itself around his skin. _

_Dirk?_

_But he was moving, already, with care, picking his way amongst the debris, mindful of the flames soaring all around. It was quite curious; this place seemed so much different, now, so much simpler, such that he knew at once what would be waiting for him at the base of the stairs, such that he knew what sort of pain he'd have to deal with the moment he turned his eyes towards the past. He truly didn't want to - but it had already happened, and the tears were already collecting in his eyes._

_Dad..._

_The dwarf was bloody and quiet and black amidst the flames. Lloyd stood a few feet away, watching, feeling again that usual misery, tears pushing at his eyes and a slow sweat trailing down his skin. He couldn't help but wonder why it had turned out this way - why he'd lost someone he needed, someone who genuinely cared for him, someone he could call his father and not have to let his eyes slip up towards the skies. He _had_ to wonder, on the other hand, why he was here again, seeing this, feeling that familiar pain, knowing this had happened so long ago - a lifetime, perhaps - and that absolutely nothing could change what was written in blood and bone before him._

_"You understand, then."_

_A figure was stepping from the shadows - from the fire and the darkness itself. Lloyd had seen this man, once before, and the memory came to him in an instant, taking him back so far and for such a long second to the depths of night and the pale cold fire he had seen claiming the depths of Abyssion's eyes. The name, though, evaded him, and he stepped back, instinctively, brushing at his eyes and watching as the strange familiar figure stepped in front of his father's corpse, stealing from view the way the fire danced along the dwarf's skin._

_"You've made mistakes, haven't you?" The voice was quiet and plain._

_"Yes," Lloyd said, softly, unable to tear his eyes from the way the shadows seemed to writhe beneath this stranger's fingertips. "But not anymore," he continued, jerking his face to the side, letting his eyes roam across the crumbling woodwork, relieved still to find his determination sitting just beneath the surface of his mind. He would not forget his promises - he would not forget his words, his emotion, the strength to his voice not so long ago - _I'll never give in

_"No," the stranger said, and there was a hint of a smile in the sound of his voice pushing against the fire-rimmed walls. "No longer. You see only the future." He moved, slowly, raising a hand, a black hand wrapped in shadows with fingers that stretched forward and out like the claws of a demon befitting the highest levels of hell. "Do you see these flames, Lloyd?" He swept his talons easily around the ruined home. "They're yours."_

_"Mine?" Lloyd asked, quietly, slightly dazed and yet finding that somehow the thought made absolute sense. These fires - this pain, this destruction - were his and his alone to handle, his and his alone to manage; it had been his fault, after all, this chaos, this death, this loss and this havoc and all of those other words that didn't mean a single damn thing in face of this comforting darkness. He decided, then, that he had to move on, that he had to push this nightmare away, and he wondered why the realization came only so suddenly amidst the shadows writhing beneath his father's corpse._

_"Yes," the stranger agreed, his words soft, the darkness at his back spreading, slinking out and stealing all that the fire touched from view. His hand was still thrust forward, waiting, and his eyes were trained on Lloyd's alone, the look honest and intense. "You have the power to move on. To never feel this loss again. These mistakes? They shall be no more. Accept this, Lloyd, and you will never fear failure again."_

_"I - I think," Lloyd murmured, casting about for the right words, grasping about for the perfect emotion in the blinding smoke, though there came instead a peculiar dryness in the back of his throat. He swallowed, once, and then tried again, suddenly mindful of the flames that had spread out behind his back, stretching along the woodwork. Would the house collapse, then, when it was all said and done, and bury him forever?_

_"Come." That black-tipped hand was still pushed forward. "You do not ever need to be afraid again." There was an odd tinge of grey in the depths of the man's eyes._

_Lloyd was moving, slowly, lifting his own hand without a second thought, though there was this powerful voice in the back of his mind screaming to pull it away. He was confused - he couldn't decide, really, when there was so much darkness, when he couldn't see his father and when the flames were reaching from the walls to wrap around his skin. He had the oddest feeling that this was where things were going to change; it was a bit strange, really, to think there should be just any one moment where it all came together, any one moment that should dictate the rest of his life, but there it was, all the same, and his hand was sliding forward to meet it, until it was only a tear's width away. _

_Perhaps this was for the best, then. Perhaps he could finally have the answers. Perhaps he could at last understand just how he had lost everything - had lost his friends - in the space of one dark night._

_"Lloyd! No!"_

_There came that terrible static and Lloyd was falling back, collapsing to his knees, hands clutched loosely at his head as the voice again rolled over his senses. It was painful and fresh and still he couldn't remember it and still it was close - and when it had seemed that the madness at last would push him over the edge there followed a most extraordinary sound, one of shattering glass, a powerful resonance that ripped its way through his mind and into the back of his throat. Even amidst the roaring flames Lloyd could hear his own screams, could hear the growl in his voice and the way the sob that stole free of his throat was as pale and as tired as the blood that ran in torrents down from the back of his hand. The Exsphere there was gone, entirely, destroyed in a moment, and with it he could feel his strength waning, could only feel a particular numbness as the static at last ebbed away._

_"Lloyd..."_

_He looked up, gradually, only barely grasping to his consciousness, finding that the chaos and the fire had seemingly been frozen in place, looking for all the world like - like a picture, maybe, some sort of painting, one torn and blackened in the flames. The stranger was there, too, unmoving, his hand forward, and, somehow, when everything had slowed to an impossible stop, Lloyd could just see the ugly sneer that had flickered across the man's lips. He knew at once that he could never take that hand, could never give into that darkness, and felt a shaken disgust at himself for almost doing so not a few moments before._

_"Lloyd."_

_He started, surprised, and glanced around, the breath dashed from his throat when a face so familiar and so very unlike his swung into view. It seemed almost surreal, then, how everything had turned out, how he was crouched here amidst the darkness, amidst the flame, the blood trailing along his skin, with his mother - his mother, the first time he had seen her, and she was right there - _there_, sitting beside him, looking tired and worn yet so very pleased to see him. "Mom!"_

_She smiled, warmly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, blinking away the tears that had settled in her eyes. "It's wonderful to see you, Lloyd," she said, softly, and her voice was exactly as Lloyd had imagined it, something wonderful and comforting that he had never been able to know._

_"How?" was all he could ask, still very much surprised, still very much in pain, yet already feeling a smile on his own lips and certain lightness to his heart that he couldn't have felt in face of the firelit darkness. His mother was here and - and he knew it couldn't be anyone but her, and even the pain in his hand was dwindling, was fading away in spite of the blood still trickling down his skin. Lloyd found, with little surprise, that where his mother took his hand, roaming her fingers along the remnants of the Exsphere, the sharp aching seemed to only slip away._

_"I've been watching you for so long," his mother said, her eyes far and away for all of the moment, falling against the gaping hole in the back of his hand. "Calling you, reaching for you, when the darkness tried to steal you away." Her smile was tempered, now, with a plain sadness, the sort of misery that Lloyd had a feeling could never fully be erased. It was frustrating and unfair; Lloyd wanted her to smile, again, to truly be happy, to show him the same face she showed his father, so long ago, before the Desians and Mithos and - and the Exsphere laying in shards near his feet._

_He pushed the lot of it aside, though, for the moment, thinking back and watching as the pieces quickly tumbled into place. "Calling me," he said, thinking aloud, and suddenly it made sense - the static, the voice, the words he couldn't really hear but the ones that had been more than enough incentive to tuck Seravine back into its pouch. "You - you tried to stop me. Is it too late now?" He didn't want to ask the question, but there it was, already far out and away from his lips, lingering on the unmoving air._

_"Yes," she said, softly. "I wish there was some other way, Lloyd. But I couldn't - I couldn't keep holding this back, not when you needed it to survive." Her eyes fell against his, still tired and sad and still the exact opposite of what he truly wished to see. "Do you understand? Do you remember, yet?"_

_Lloyd shook his head, bothered immensely with the idea of disappointing her. "No, mom. I don't think I do. What am I supposed to remember?"_

_His mother said nothing, at first, watching him, then simply switched her eyes to the stranger, to the darkness still frozen before them. "Do you know his name?" she asked, after a long while, an expression of intense dislike flittering across her face for the space of a long second._

_"No," Lloyd said, plainly, but even as the word left his mouth he felt a peculiar coldness sneaking into his mind, a sudden rush of things he couldn't believe he hadn't managed to remember. "My dreams," he said, so gently, his eyes looking some place far away as the nightmares flashed to view. "I think I - " but the words fell away, even as his thoughts were only just beginning to collect._

_"Think, Lloyd." There was a quiet urgency to her voice. "Do you know?"_

_There were so many things, now, so many memories and so many dreams that were coming, flooding into his thoughts, and he could easily place them, could instantly recall everything he had seen and the many different places this man had been - this man before him, frozen, unmoving, silent but somehow still dangerous in the way his hand was still reaching out amongst the smoke and fire._

_"Do you remember?" _

_His mother's words were falling against his mind, soft and comforting, and he dug back a bit, finding the answer already shifting to the tip of his tongue. "Richard." He glanced up at the stranger, seeing the face truly for the first time, seeing the way the darkness seemed to curl around the other man's heart. "Richard Nebilim." The answer was much too obvious for his liking._

_"Correct," his mother said, and, for a moment, there was only silence as she raised a hand to brush at her eyes. "You need to know this man before you make your choice. I couldn't protect you and not have you recognize Richard for who he is."_

_"I'll never give in," Lloyd said, at once, echoing his words from not a day before, and with the same determination, no less. "I'll never let them take me." It was such a simple thing to say - and despite his conviction there was still this stranger's hand jutting out into space, not a few feet from his own. "Not - not after everything that's happened. Not after they took everything away." He could feel the stirrings of anger scuttling about the back of his skull._

_"I know."_

_He glanced at her, taking in the way her lips were curved slightly downward. "But - why are you sad?" It was a simple enough question, he thought, and an answer he dimly recognized he likely wouldn't want._

_His mother sighed and moved to look him fully in the eyes, shifting so she could take his hands in her own. "I fear this is out of your hands, Lloyd. You have your choice, certainly, but I feel the decision was already made, long ago." She bit a moment at her lower lip. "I don't know why I think this. I only know that I do."_

_"I don't understand." He was truly beginning to hate those words - beginning to hate how many times he had to say them and how many times they would likely come up again._

_"I know," she said, again, her eyes never once leaving his, her hands still holding his tight. "I don't either."_

_Her words were quiet and frightening. Lloyd said nothing, for a long while, just watching her, trying and failing and knowing that this was something he couldn't figure out just yet. "Why is this happening?" he said, at the tone of a mumble, sinking his head into his hands, mindless of the red stains along his gloves. Immediately he felt a pair of arms wrapped around his shoulders, and, biting his tongue against the tears that sprung unwanted to his eyes, he simply sat there, letting his eyelids gradually slip closed, seeing only a plain and comforting blankness._

_"Never stop fighting, Lloyd," she murmured, running her hands slowly through his hair, her fingers gentle and warm and everything Lloyd could have wanted from the mother he had never known. "I know you're confused. I know you have questions. But you have your friends - and your family. We'll always be with you."_

_"I know," he said, echoing her words, allowing himself a tired smile, eyes still shut. He was half-afraid that, open sliding them open, his mother would no longer be there, would no longer be holding him close. "And I promised them, you know. I said I'd always be there." A fierce sort of determination had settled beneath the words._

_"Then go." His mother held him tighter, for the moment, then pressed her lips to his forehead. "I love you, Lloyd. I'll always be with you."_

_She was gone, in an instant, leaving him to the shadows, and suddenly everything was moving again and he could feel the fire and Richard's expectant gaze. Lloyd stood, slowly, mindful of the throbbing in his hand, his eyes coming open and falling on the red-rimmed shards still jammed into the skin. Biting his lip, he took a free hand to yank them out, wincing at the fresh wave of pain, though the worst of it had long since faded in his mother's company. He was a bit worried, for the moment, knowing that without the Exsphere he was no more than some mere human, though the thought was pushed away with the sound of quiet voice._

_"Come, Lloyd." Richard was speaking again, and there was a glimmer of recognition just below the surface of his eyes. "Your protection has faded. You will come with me."_

_"No," Lloyd said, defiantly, standing his straightest and letting a tight smile settle across his lips. "My mother gave up everything for me - and I'm sure _as hell_ not about to waste that." His voice was rising, still, amidst the flames, high and above the blackened rafters that looked all but ready to collapse to nothing. "No more, Nebilim. You have my friends." His hands fell to his swords, gripping tightly at the familiar hilts. "I want them. Now. I'm tired of your games."_

_Richard was silent, for a short while, before displaying a sharp smile. "You think I have them?" There was no trace of humor in the way his eyes seemed suddenly that much brighter in the gathering flames. "You still don't understand." He withdrew his hand, carefully, holding the fingers up before his face, letting his gaze travel with deliberate slowness over the way the skin was shifting and shaking; a coiling blackness had wrapped itself around the knuckles, forming delicate points that vaguely resembled horns._

_Lloyd could only watch, feeling a particular tremor in his own heart, and inexplicably felt his eyes falling to his own fist, not wanting to and already watching the fingers unfurl and stretch out at his waist. For a moment, there was nothing out of the ordinary, only the pale skin of his hand, the white stained red with the former shards of his Exsphere; the seconds passed, then, so quickly, and his relief crashed into the pit of his stomach when the veins pulsed faintly with a powerful grey. Shutting his eyes, he quickly turned his head away, not wanting to see and not wanting to understand but already knowing just what sort of point Richard had been trying to prove in the echo of the other man's laughter._

_"What - " he began, but the breath was torn from the throat in a painful gasp as he felt strong grip lift him easily from his feet and slam him back into the wall. Forcing his eyes open against the overwhelming pain, he glanced with some desperation down at the shifting black clamping against his neck, struggling and feeling the breath ripped from his lungs as the claws only tightened further. With a growing worry, he kicked out, moving frantically and biting his lip against the pain as the room was falling steadily darker and the echoes of his breathing were thin and remote amidst the sound of the blood pounding in his ears._

_"Your strength is waning." Richard was much too close and Lloyd felt his eyes drawn inevitably forward, into the fire and the flame of the other man's smile. "Do not waste my time, Lloyd. You cannot delay the inevitable." He looked cold and - calm, perhaps, damnably confident in every word, seeming to take delight in the way Lloyd's struggles were rapidly dwindling. "Yes," he murmured, "please, keep fighting." A smirk touched on his lips as Lloyd continued to kick, straining against the hold and reaching for the swords that had fallen from his side._

_"I will come for you soon," Richard said, almost as an afterthought, loosening his grip and letting Lloyd drop to the floor below. He moved, then, turning away, pausing for just the moment before he slipped back into the shadows. "Give my regards to your friends."_

_Lloyd's vision was spinning, rapidly, the fires fading, and even as he gasped for breath his eyes could not look past the pained expression carved into the shadows along Dirk's face._

_Slowly, the world slipped away._

oOo

Lloyd shifted, gradually, coming awake, feeling a throbbing pain in his hand and in his leg and - hell, in every part of his body, enough that he wanted for that moment to just lay there and never move again. The mirror was there, too, right before him, cracked and shaped in a grotesque manner; he moved to brush a shaking finger against the surface, finding the glass cold and unmoving, and, finally, when he had collected his senses, he struggled to his feet, turning on shaky legs, though they nearly gave way once again when his eyes settled at last on the nightmare before him.

He had switched - somehow, he was on the other side of the glass, and _Sheena and Zelos and Raine _were there, quiet and cold, and his heart all but stopped in his chest and he was scrambling forward, desperately, tears springing unwelcomed to his eyes, his groping hands falling just short of the silence and the pain permeating Sheena's face. "No," he said, softly, grabbing her wrist, finding nothing even resembling a pulse, and, with an angry sob, he weaved the delicate fingers through his, sinking back onto his knees and knowing he had managed to make a mistake once again. He had been _too late_ and everything was lost and he could only feel this biting sadness and an unnatural anger - a powerful rage rolling through his veins and causing his hands to shake with wild abandon.

_Too late..._

He sat there, for a long while, shaking, seeing nothing, mindful only of how bitterly cold Sheena's hands felt wrapped in his. This wasn't right. This wasn't right - he _should have made it_ and there was so many things he had wanted to say and the anger was growing, still, in the pit of his stomach, stretching and clutching at his skin, until his entire body was shaking and he had the short faint thought that something terrible would happen if he couldn't find the _bastard_ that did this soon. _This wasn't right_. This shouldn't have happened and it stilldidand they were dead and Lloyd could scarce hear the sound of his tears as they fell down his cheeks, mindful only of the silence all around and the ache in his chest and the realization that things would never be the same.

Everything was so dark, now, draped with the shadows that stretched across the room, and Lloyd was starting to think again, only slightly, not wanting to and already feeling a terrible guilt clutching at his mind. How could - how could he _face them_? Colette and Regal and Genis and Presea and Chocolat and - everyone, everyone he knew, everyone he trusted, everyone he had let down, so many faces and so many names and _this still wasn't right_. He had been through so much, yes, _too_ much, and this wasn't how things were supposed to turn out, not the sort of happy ending he had been imagining before. He had fought for so long and bled for so long that all of this seemed a little surreal; he wanted this to be a joke, some grand, twisted joke, to think this was merely a game, to know that things would be better, if he would open his eyes and just see - but he knew what was waiting, there, a pale soft face, pink bow, black hair, painful smile, the hand he couldn't let go of and the hand that told him so plainly that every last second of this was real.

"Sheena," he said, lowly, gripping her fingers, bringing them with naked desperation to his lips, then falling forward and letting his head rest somewhat uncomfortably on his knees, too tired to move and too broken to shake the rigid coldness that had spread along her skin. There was hope, in the very back of his mind, that perhaps this was yet another dream, yet another nightmare, that he would awaken in a moment and find the lot of them safe and sound, but there was little denying the way his heart had seemed to all but stop and the way his friends had taken only the whitest of pallors. _Too late..._

_I'll always be there. _

He had failed. It had seemed so _easy_, then, to promise, and Lloyd hated the fact that it was even easier to watch it be broken.

_Perhaps it is too late._

"No," he said, quietly, and then again, clenching his fists, welcoming the darkness, the powerful black he could see only when he closed his eyes._  
_

_This, I fear, will be your greatest battle. _

Dimly, his ears caught the sound of laughter.

_Only you, however, can decide what happens._

"Oh, Lloyd. You came!"

That voice - he was falling back, scrambling backwards, hands clutching instinctively his swords, the breath caught in his throat and his heart slamming against his ribs - and Sheena was shifting, slightly, to sit up, to watch him, to _smile_, her eyes as black as night.

_ It has begun._


End file.
